In the Soft Morning Light of Spring

I ache to sing of what was lost and what it allowed to live

We sleep with the windows open now every night. The 40 degree air coats the room by morning and the dew has settled on our blankets that keep us cozy and just damp enough to feel like the plants in the garden in these first May days. There is a renewal to our life in the spring not just in the garden but in life.

Everything the fall told us must put to bed is still visible now as the world around us climbs towards the sun, yet it is dead, feeding what is growing and how similar I feel.