Wishing for Spring
March 3rd, 2008
Sun beats down from the winter sky and I stand straight, the cold burn of the air threatening to work its way into my bones. I stretch upwards and reach for the warm in the light, my body becoming like a tree. Ever touching that which is above which my feet remain firmly planted on the ground.
I wish it was Summer, or better yet Spring so I could dig my bare toes into the cool mud and feel the sparse strands of grass tickle my ankles.
I pull in a deep breath, arms still skywards, and it feels like the rush of air moves down through my whole being especially my backs. I release it and slowly bring my arms down in front of me, still stretching. I lean backwards and vertebrate crack in places I’d rather they not.
Closing my eyes I can see green and brown and blue in all the wonderful hues I long for. Opening them again becomes a task when I remember the ground is white, the trees barren, and the sky and odd shade of gray.
Oh how I wish for Spring.
beautiful. :-)
and heh, yeah, my bones do that, too. ;-)
J1M: Lol, I wish mine didn’t. Just the sound makes me cringe and pop something out of place.