the stirring heart of early spring
I am an opening window with stirring curtains, welcoming in the cool, quiet breath of the aroused season.
I am just around the next bend of the road.
I am piratical with my smiles, and with the secrets of my heart.
I am hopeful, flowerful, half-mad with fresh love.
I am growing out of gothic cold and shadows; my spirit shapes itself, with light and colour, into laughter.
I am dreaming; I am believing.
I am a child in a dance, and a woman embraced by wild and faithful beauty, and a crone who knows she is the fulfillment of herself, oak-strong, steady, understanding.
This post was inspired by reading Aisling's August poem at her weblog The Quiet Country House. What are you in August? Here in the southern hemisphere, August is a month where winter and spring intertwine, and the days grow slowly longer, and the cold shrivels to the edges of the days, the middle of the night. Unwalked roads sing out, drawing us from home. I send my daughter to gather a little blossom and she comes home with a bag full of wildflowers. Soon Love will stir with greater fervour, and the wildest winds of the year will sweep through. But just now it is a tantalising promise of warmth and adventure. It is, has always been, my favourite month.
sharing with roses of inspiration