The Inspiration of a Spring Sky
There is value in the springtime sky, blue and clear above my head. I have reached for the inspiration nature brings me, without too much expectation, and with clarity.
Some days the words flow though me like an unfettered sieve. The bigger pieces lay awash in the strainer bin, the smaller filter though in fits and starts.
The clouds pass by unmasking the momentary blockage of the rays of the sun, and then the crystal clarity of the orb brings warmth to my face. There is peace. In the distance, a brook babbles in its trek downstream across the smooth river stones to the basin below. I smile.
Each and every day the inspiration of the spring sky lifts me onward toward the morrow, ever expectant of the morning dew. There is a listless moment and then it breaks, and I am once again with my momentary lapse into the unconscious mind, ever feasting on the senses it finds itself offered.
And time recoils, remembrances refrain from barking out the orders of the dawn, and my solitude is eased by the ringing of the bell on Church steeple-top frame.