Thursday April 20, 2011
Spring -- the simplest pleasure of all.
Green grass emerges unbidden.
Annuals pop up, where cold, seemingly barren earth lay.
Even my walk seems effortless, simple.
The sun warms gently now; it will glare in the coming months.
The corner where I contended with biting cold just weeks ago today brings only refreshing simplicity.
As I rest in the simplicity, it invades my heart, my soul...
and I remember.
I need not roll the stone away.
I simply lift my head and believe.
Linking up today with Imperfect Prose. Won't you come along?
Spring -- the simplest pleasure of all.
Green grass emerges unbidden.
Annuals pop up, where cold, seemingly barren earth lay.
Even my walk seems effortless, simple.
The sun warms gently now; it will glare in the coming months.
The corner where I contended with biting cold just weeks ago today brings only refreshing simplicity.
As I rest in the simplicity, it invades my heart, my soul...
and I remember.
I need not roll the stone away.
I simply lift my head and believe.
Linking up today with Imperfect Prose. Won't you come along?
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