And when I blink
inside the slender twigs of trees, the memory of leaf, the silent code of blossoms bursting; and there is also this: the way the robin flies to here,
to these still stark woods, her plumage rust, her song the everything
that lifts my heart
and when I hear her call from the kitchen window I cannot help but run
to the back door, where I find the grass still hard with morning frost, and hesitate
and then she warbles sweet and high in the crook of a birch,
and again I learn
how little it is that I know.
+++ Some tunes for the end of March, just for you. <3 Also: I've opened a little shop. Adding a few things to it daily. Prints mostly. Some originals too (soon.) +++ I can't believe it's going to be April so soon. Are you ready? What is one thing you want April to manifest?