The calendar says it’s spring, but Wisconsin weather doesn’t respect human constructs. It’s threatening 6-10 inches of snow the second weekend in April, so it’s going to be a while before there’s green or flowers.
Signs of spring’s coming are present though, if you know where to look or how to listen, or even how to feel.
Under a covering of snow is a restless brook, quietly burbling. Telling us its name. Telling us it’s there. Muscling, meandering, murmuring.
The hemlocks dance in the cold air. A forgiving breeze. Sunlight is the power that brings change.
The whirring of wings. Heartbeats. Stirring primal desires for family. And future.
Snow is melting, compacting, feeling discorporeal underfoot.
Heat gathers. Pockets form. Shallows invite a slow descent.
Leaves wave, withered. Whispering quietly of the burgeoning to come.
Soon to meet the kiss of decay. Transferring energy to the next phase.
The cycle continues. Ephemeral perpetual.
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