I tip-toed across the bridge, watching a heron watch me, until he lifted away like a ghost who simply had enough. All night, storms ripped apart the darkness but in their wake, a clear blue morning pierced a sleepless fog. How close I am to intuiting heaven when sunlight zings off the water! A painted turtle slipped back into the ruffled pond and truly my day brimmed.
Hundreds of Lily of Valley bloom in the backyard. Their sweetness rises along side the yard work. I pick two or three for a small vase on the kitchen sill, yet even the fragrance from those few make my eyes water. You who make me feel like water — the water-bearer carries a hundred secrets in his jar but spills nothing.
Your sweet what-if's no longer kiss me in dreams. However, I did plant Forget-me-nots around the mailbox and near the creek. Their diminutive showing is a modesty to treasure. And their blue – oh that blue – the eyes of God. Look down upon me so that we both may be saved!
The lakes are too high and some bridges and roads are closed. Lake Michigan is predicted to rise another 9-12 inches. Though the snow is gone a harshness of season lingers. My spirit rolls around in the arms of pines like thunder. Maybe June will melt all that begs for protection.