The Leaves of Spring

That in this moment there is life and food for future years. And so I dare to hope, though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first I came among these hills...

And I don't think any other words right now would do. No other piece is as proper as this one for this particular moment.

My question, however, is: who or what will compensate for the moments lost? How, as sojourners do we go about remembering and keeping alive the essence of each moment?

I gather enough flame to take the valuable lessons brought by this short winter. This season is almost summer, almost at times, spring. And the river, while frozen, still runs course...and the dead leaves, though emaciated, will eventually burgeon. So I see the slow progression that is life, that carries with it the value of a re-generation founded upon cold cinders of what once was.

And so, I take nothing for granted.

aeka at 1:17 p.m.