Open Season

Blue sky sunshine, sunglasses, swollen full moon hanging low in the sky, Sigur Rós cranked up, snow-flake warning icon showing on my car's instrument panel (warning me the temperature could mean ice on the road) but the roof panel is slid all the way back - full open - so my bald patch can fly in the cold morning air.

I never live with balance
I always wake up nervous
Light comes at me sideways
I hold my breath forever  

I never live with balance
Though I've always liked the notion
I feel that endless hunger
For energy and motion  

Open... 

     - Bruce Cockburn, from Open

Spring is finally showing up here in the Pacific Northwest, even if we are still having to glimpse it between rain showers and wind storms.  Quick - see the pretty pink petals on the cherry trees before the wind rips them all off and the rain drives them down to the wet sidewalks and lawns below.  If you're slow - see the the pretty pink ground beneath the cherry trees!

I suspect there is nearly as much poetry about spring as there is about loss, both subjects being powerful muses for creative souls.  This morning I found a beautiful poem (with great alliteration throughout!) about spring in New Mexico.  I was drawn to the poem because of the many summers I spent in southern New Mexico as a boy, though spring was the one season I don't think I ever got to experience there:

Spring danced over the cactus plains,
Vaguely tender in timid green,
Veiled in the sudden, fleeting rain's
Silver sheen.
No mad riot of buds, and yet
Wild poppies and mignonette,
Flung from her floating garland gown,
Fluttered down. 

    - from Spring-New Mexico, by Rose Henderson

Spring is a season of openings and, after all, I think we're really ready for it this year.

Today's full playlist (all Sigur Rós):

• Stormur
• Kveikur
• Rafstraumur
• Bláþráður