A heron takes flight from the edge of the lake. The tips of its broad wings touch the calm water. Behind clouds the sun is rising. Doves are heard and go unseen beneath the branches of pines. Hints of green reveal themselves in budding shrubs. Nuthatches scurry up and down and across tree limbs while beaks tap into crevices in search of seeds and insects. The frogs have awakened and their chorus rings in my ears. In the marsh there is a remnant of its past, when it had been a beaver pond. Sharp teeth carved the base of a tree into the shape of an hourglass and many years later it has yet to fall. I am drawn to another tree close to this one. Here it has stood in place for a long time, a survivor that continues to endure. I admire its strength. How I wish it could impart this gift of strength to our world.
In May, branches will be covered in tender leaves. I will walk in cool shadows and amidst the changing sights and sounds of spring.