some days i wake up to find there is static on the line. unreconcilable sadness overtakes me when the click has faded to a barely audible echo. it’s funny how each time it happens i forget the remedy until after a few hours of fumbling around for answers to questions i can’t even articulate.
and then i remember: it’s out there. up there. where the air is purer, the water is clearer & the life isn’t old, it’s timeless. if you listen, they’ll even whisper to you.
at a very base level we’re sponges. we’re wrung & wrung, by everything around us and especially by people sometimes.
when you found me i had been wrung to a fraction of my natural capacity. cynical little bits rubbing off at the slightest jostling. and some of those fringes are too dead to revive. they’ll fall off as we move along.
but there is a stale moisture centered within that wants to be replenished. and if the trees have taught me anything, it is simply this: don’t take water for granted. when it’s there, soak it up.
so, no – i’m not afraid of it – thirst trumps fear. and there’s only one expectation; the foliage this spring will be a lush shade of green.
“we’re somewhere in between…”
©2011 JTW “jtwhitaker.com” All rights reserved.