An Opera for the Ages

   Enter :   Whited puffy clots on a clear blue sky. 

               Horizon to the south , garage doors to the north.

               The Ting, Ting, TANG of a mature Red Maple's arm candy, a two tier wind chime playing a                happy tune. 

                No marching rhythm here, just the slow dirge of rebirth and ecstasy.

                The sky's glide is a procession put forth with grace and an ease within.

                 With waves rolling and lines following, all is a forward flow through iced crystals. 

                  The Sun track is exposed through spotty sun through the clouds of many shapes, now, the suns                   spectral spectacle received is a wordsmith's bonanza of thought through things that resonate.  

                 The Earth itself has softened and seems more acceptable. Small tufts and early shoots of grass                      have come to the show , making a great splash with their growth.

                    Slightly tilted, looking teetered a short wood 4x4  topped with a solar light in each corner of                      light post front driveway  flower bed. As it is in this moment small shadows over play and                          partially obscure the new beginnings of Tulips, Hostas , Lilies and others with names I have                        forgotten have braved the cold soil and are reaching out to the bright life force. 

                     There is no simple repetition even when it seems the same age in and age out. Or , it's just                            me, my age that makes me feel the recognition of sights , sounds and light that I am                                     perceiving at this moment , but I just can't seem to place the time.