Waiting For The Spring BreezeEverything is sleeping. The great trees have slowed their life essences and closed down their roots. The flowers have died back and kept a small fire burning somewhere deep underground. The queen bees are lying still somewhere in the dark. The world lies under the cold blanket of snow, drowsy and dormant and waiting with one eye open for the first sounds of when to awake.
Part of me lays curled up with them, waiting as well, for when my soul can stretch, yawn and walk out into the warm morning breeze that softly stirs new life into becoming.