a taste of spring…

a taste of spring…

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

(stream of consciousness posted prompted by a spike to 70 degrees today)

a taste of spring, a little bird on a twig, a series of chirps evolves into song, the sun, not quit strong enough to completely thaw, nor to make my face have the brooding fear of a tan, but a blue sky and a bright sun can lighten the disposition of gravity, still snow survives, around the edges, under the hedges, melting tides reveal masks strewn about in the gutters, a grim reminder of the times we are emerging from, less a tunnel and more a moratorium, a pause, a break in the norm, all holidays vanished along with those lost, a year seems gone, lost, like this never happened, but I do sense this, a taste of spring, seventy degrees seems like the last mile marker on the road to a vacation destination, a little finch, just inches above me, I swear he is dancing a jig, or at least bouncing around, and the snow’s retreat, even the dull green of the lawn is a treat, a feast for the eyes, lonely stark dirtied snow has a toll, like walls, the glow of the setting sun, behind the everyday house across the street, somehow looks more regal, so I will soak this in for now, into my skin, trigger memories of better days, of hope, of waves gently rolling over my toes as a I stroll down my favorite sandy venue soon enough, I have not come out of this time as whole as I once was, but I still am, so hope is resolve, in this – a taste of spring.

trigger of a tune.

trigger of a tune.

Photo by Matthias Groeneveld on Pexels.com

(stream of consciousness post)

maybe not their best tune, but a good one, and one that reminds me, of a another time, another life, really, talk about out of body experiences, I feel like I am watching a documentary of my own self within these memories flashing, what is this? The time was all, all potential, I was supposed to be the next big thing, in my family at least, I had the brains, the grades, all the accolades I strove for because I was told those are the things to strive for, but… I had not found the me, not the what I wanted to be, not what I was slipped prescriptions for, or told are the best professions, no, nothing spoke to my core, I was really lost in the forest of the voices of others, but I plodded onward anyway, happily on the outward face, outside forces had their nearly complete sway, I was more a passenger, sailor, not the captain I should have been, sure, it is easy to look back now, and see all this, in reverse, clear as day in my written history book, but I was never pushed to seek my true engagement, my pure, it was all about the wrap of perception, which, obviously, in retrospect, such as this is, manifested into my subversive objection via the actions of my life in circumspect, clearly, I was not ready, not ready for the pre-prescribed life I was ‘supposed’ to lead, why the push? and to some degree, did I exacerbate the push because that is the direction that the positive energy was flowing in (and by dousing myself in such glowing in)? instead of being… or finding… me? I can not say this is regret, maybe a cousin of such, but these feels like a different animal, I think regret has more ownership than that, there are second chances, I just have to make sure when I look back next time I have paid more attention – to myself.