WINTER’S DREGS

PHOTO BY PATRICIA: first bud on the honeysuckle…

Maybe there will always be sadness within, sadness for what was lost, what was taken, what will never be, and sadness that my voice still now stays mute when it should scream.

So, in going there internally, that is what is felt on this frigid yet sunny spring day. And that is much of life, the sadness with the joy.

It’s when numbing out one the other goes too. In solitude by the creek, tears as the two love bird geese paddle by, then robins perch above ready to mate.

Tears of pain, sadness, yet joy too. But one cannot be had without the other. The numbing of winter’s dregs are beginning to thaw, and with it a new start, another day, an improved me.

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