driving along thick ice and tamped down snow,
passing horses and a stray grey cat,
i slow down at an expanse of farmland,
roll my window down, as the music hums softly in the background,
and take a big, cold breath of a Pennsylvania morning in February
our eyes travel along the edges of your rolling hills,
across soft, emerald fields,
alongside small homesteads filled with golden,
straw-colored dreams and clear streams of enchanted river songs
The rain falls steadily and silently.
With a liquid velvet touch
it rests on trees and brown grass,
kissing them gently back to life.
Tiny artful creature–
where are you now?
When I close my eyes, I smell you.
walk with me until we can’t walk anymore
talk with me until we can’t talk anymore
laugh with me until we can’t laugh anymore
be with me until we can’t be anymore
Thinking about green summer days
when the heron flies above the river
and the breeze makes the leaves
rustle and sway.
Green summer thoughts
make a cold March morning
feel warmer.
