I hear from other parts of the country that spring has arrived, but we here in Cleveland still await it. The hardest winter many of us can recall, when spring does arrive, we will open our doors, come out and greet our neighbors and reassure ourselves that we are not polar bears.
It's almost impossible not to be touched by the season of birth and growth whether one is happy or sad, looking forward or clinging to the past. Spring, especially, seems to say, "Move on." "To where, to what?" you might ask if you are depressed or confused. No answers from me except to say, move. Often, a whattodo will present itself once you decide to move your body and your mind. It's not always a right answer but it is something. And something can lead to something else. That's called living, which by now, we all know, requires courage. So, if your are fortunate enough to have spring at your door, take a brave step into it.
Snowdrops, in the poem below, are the bravest flowers I know.
Occupied
Camped beneath the trees,
lined up along the driveway,
snow drops are rioting in my yard.
Two inches high, their droopy little heads together
they are bound in flower solidarity,
withstanding every weather.
Even the mad March hare
that runs about my house at night
cannot scare these little soldiers.
Heralds of spring, they close ranks
against the blustering wind
that, unbeknownst to it,
carries the snowdrop message,
"Spring is coming."
