Morning sun becomes more than light. Rays of warmth reach sleep soaked limbs. Land mist shimmers.
Daffodils begin their yellow crop, even a crocus has been seen.
Spring runs like a pup through the legs of Old Winter: Old Winter laughs at the circular twist.
It has been the purpose of this dark season all along: to nurture life, bring forth spring.

Late evening, along the line where mist becomes fog, we are driving. The world seems splashed with pale watery paint.
Warmth, we speak of it: we feel it still, this gold promise.
Mist fans out, plumes and plumes of otherworldliness.

Six thousand three hundred and thirty miles from here my brother and his wife settle in to their new apartment. They have other news to share.
A picture of an ultrasound, of forming bones, light as butterfly limbs.
Tiny thing, welcome. It seems to us we feel the warm beat of you and the distance is nothing at all.


Cherdo said…
"Tiny thing, welcome."

Nothing sweeter than that. :-)
Geo. said…
Grand news gently shared. My best wishes!
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you Geo. We are fantastically happy with this news :-)
Dixie@dcrelief said…
Ooh, this is nice.
Also I nominated you for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award, on my page today. Thank you for inspiring me and congratulations, Lisa!!
Cathy Kennedy said…
Hey, Lisa! What a nice poetry composite! I'm not very poetic. Okay, there have a been a few times I made an attempt at it. My final works turned out fine, but nothing too grand. lol Some people have the talent and others, like me, don't. I accept my short-comings and go with the flow. It's nice meeting. I appreciate you stopping by today. I reckon you found me at dcrelief, eh? Oh yeah, just want you to know something is crazy with the way you left your blog url on WP. I was redirected with some sort of warning message, so I had to Google you to find my way to your site. The funny thing is it looks the same, but it behaves right. I'll try editing your url on comments to see, if this fixes the problem in case someone want to hop over to see. Anywho, that's it for this visit. Have a good evening. Oh yeah, I'll be sure to follow you! ;)
Lisa Southard said…
Hi Cathy, I was raised with poets so I can't help it - everyone has their own kind of poetry but the hardest sort to find is your own. No wonder people get fed up with it :-) I did find you via Dixie and I have no idea about the blog url- word press auto filled that- which probably means at some point I had mistyped it. Was not raised with technology and am prone to this sort of event. Impressed that you found me anyway!
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you Dixie- being an inspiration is a fine privilege, much appreciated :-) x

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