And don't assume I mean the so-called "Spring" happening around me.
The hesitant grass gains enough courage to appear, but lacks the confidence to arch its fresh spine and sit up in its muddy bed. I can understand. After all, this isn't what Spring is supposed to be... it's just grey and muddy and waiting.
That is how my new world looks. Not "new" as in fresh and vibrant and changing. But "new" as in grey and muddy and only waiting for what comes next. New as in different; new as in unknown.
When I face the unknown, when I feel rained on and walking into the wind, I look for comfort. Warmth in all its various forms. Umbrellas. Scarves. A pleasantly overheated second-floor apartment. Kind words from kind people. And even kind words from people I don't know-
First Lesson, by Philip Booth
Taken from page 190 of "Good Poems" by Garrison Keillor... and seriously, they are.
Lie back, daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you. Spread
your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls. A dead-
man's-float is face down. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
me, when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.
Isn't that just beautiful?
In changing tides, and strong waves you've just gotta ride out...
calm down and just float a while.
