2021 | First Quarter
I am chronicling the light this month, and for two weeks the sun has shone. From sparkling slopes to the first rainbow bent low under thunderheads. Today, the icy Ides, may be the first without a glimpse of the sun. A howling wind covers the prairie in a blanket of fresh snow like a mother tucking it in for a few more moments of slumber. Hush now, back to sleep, just a little longer yet.
Yes, wait a little longer. Please, world. Don’t rush back to a pre-pandemic pace so soon.
Slow down, 7th grade schoolyear, sit, be still, pause in the silence. Stop reaching and wresting. Rest. Receive this.
Deep breath. There is no hurry. Contractions are not needed now. The world is whirled along its course toward languid summer nights. They will come. We are moving, standing, reclining, inclining, laying down and living day by day. Presently, green will flood these folds and the whole flowering cycle swell and recede and grow cold again in next winter’s womb. Welcome the warm brown waking and the last frost kiss.
Laugh like a brook broken free to flow and fill furrowed fields. Sing from the treetops. Frisk furrily and roll and loll and gambol in the goodness of the sweet earth air. Can you smell it? Drink in the laden breezes and lap up the -soaked streams. Each bud heralds nectar. Every burgeon portends fruit. Unlash your worries and unfurl your doubts and be swept off your fears–by the churning, chanting, chortling, chastening, chattering, chinooking wind.
Taking stock of where I am:
- Luke’s gospel
- several writing prompts
- a single sentence
- a lost tale
- a psalm
- Brett bakes bread and replaced four windows
- Norah works on her RPG
- a shed design…
“Then render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,Luke 20:25
and to God the things that are Gods.”