"It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is.
And when you've got it, you want ~ oh, you don't
quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly
makes your heart ache, you want it so!"
Mark Twain
There is a longing within me, almost simplistic or child like. I am yearning for mornings with dew on the grass and the hunt to find plants pushing up through the dirt. I need to feel the sun on my face as my legs stretch along the path headed to no where.
From the porch I can watch the sun gently fall down into the horizon, a huge ball of burning orange. I imagine the horizon is water, gently cushioning the fall of the sun. My ears stretch to hear the sounds of the birds settling their young into their nests. The silence that soothes before the night falls.
Securing my quilt around me, grasping my cup of hot tea, I find joy in spotting the moon. There is such elegance as it simply floats across the darkest of skies. The twinkling stars confirm my connection and I feel as though all is right with the world.
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