My love of April pulses through the senses… the perceptions of life reborn, and the resurrection flame in every emerald shoot.
My respect for March is a sober weight on my heart… the power of the experiment wanes, like a staggering man who clutches someone’s sleeve to steady himself. The currents of life swirl at my newly found stability, threatening to undermine the uncured foundation.
I feel the low gravitational energy of 2005 pulling at my center.
And so I mount the two-wheeled steed with my cohorts, and defy the hills until my lungs want to explode.
To fly with the redwing blackbirds, as the wind drinks my tears…