saturday morning has decided not to offer up it's usual morning sunrise..... floating over the tops of my cyprus trees.... there's no semblance of warmth on another bitterly cold day.... instead i look out over a misty grey frost covered morning as i plan my day. my old tom cat sits on the doorstep.... hunched against the cold..... in silent commensuration....as i listen to a small sparrow's fussing chatter because i've let the birdfeeder run out of seed again. i feel we all ....the three of us..... are quietly sending up supplications for spring....and warm weather.
as i sat..... earlier.... having my breakfast of toast and local honey..... i was reminded of a poem by julian huxley:
"like sudden blossom on the naked trees
memories shoot; the place is all alive
with questing thoughts that like spring-quickended bees
find and bear back rememberance to my hive."
on this cold winter morning.......i'm remembering warm sunny mornings full of bird song and the smell of flowers.....and feeling the ache of the cold in these old bones..........
