Slow Fullfillment of the Flowers

Perhaps the moment the eye of the mind is filled with the beauty of natural things, from under a cloud shadow our thoughts emerge and ascend to the open glow of sky.  High above songs of winter birds fall like rain as we receive open hands of air tinted with the lonely blue of distant hills that enriches our blood and nourishes each closed bud alive in its cloak, each thin green bough hidden under cover of brier.

Maybe as the next refreshing wind will lift our hearts even further up from the trodden footpath of cold, hard earth we continue to carefully pick our way around dead ferns, decaying leaves and short grey stalks spiraled with thorns. In spring when hedges thicken green and meadows shine with buttercups, we will enjoy them all the more having traveled the same places when bare and having witnessed the slow fulfillment of the flowers.