Every year as winter seeps into the gutters and down into the may flowers I make a promise to myself to not let it sneak up on me. I promise to watch all the little buds as my flower garden grows it's dancers to watch as my tree gets ready to house the funny little bird that I talk to with clicking sounds and to watch as the baby sappling infront of my porch struggles to make its third summer. Every year I turn off my street onto the one that leads off it I find the trees covered with small pockets of green reaching out to the world around it and I noticed it today as I left for work. Again it has snuck upon me. I had been watching carefully and could have sworn yesterday there was nothing but empty twigs. And still it makes me wonder, maybe this is one of those perfect miricles that happens spontaniously in the first fingers of dawn that you can't watch happen, too fast to catch. The flowers are slower in stages of blooming, the gentle green sprounts pushing through eyelids of dirt and those I can watch and see the changes, anticipate the sudden blooming of vibrant colours. And when I think of things like this and I put them into words I know that I yearn for some one to share them with, th0ughts of how the moon shines and the sound of rain on my roof, of days when the wind dances on your face, the perfect pairing of warmth and cool when you walk wihtout the need for a sweater, and of course the suddenness of the of blooming. Lonlier than the beautiful, wild winter, is the warm romantic spring.
Always yours, even though you havn't found me;
~Kitty
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