springing

two more weeks till spring.
can you feel it? the way the wind is a little less hostile. the way everything is pairing up and the blooms of winter are wilting. birds wake you up, instead of the cold. pink is your new color. mornings are shaded in hope. and sundresses start filling your mind.
When I'm a French Lit. prof I'm going to design my course to reflect the seasons. Rimbaud and Verlaine in the fall. Hugo and Camus in the winter. Baudelaire and Proust in the spring. I will inspire my class to find meaning in the work, meaning in God's work, harmony with the unstoppable shifts of nature and their lives. and they will love me.

Next year, this time. I'll be done with my own schooling. well, at least the part that everyone is expected to do. and i'll have to decide how much more to do. or the harder decision: When do I stop (my heart votes never)

and i remember a spring where every morning was filled with hopes that the day fulfilled. late night walks, long gazing, silly, silly gushes of poetry, prose, and love languages. ridiculous promises that seemed impossible to fulfill. i dwelt in possiblities (thanks emily)
2 springs later. the same thing happens. when the sun hits my face just so, causing me to squint in happiness, my mind immeadately thinks of him and the way our love does that. it shines a little to brilliantly to look directly into without becoming blind to the real world. but it brightens the days, causing me squint at the certain uncertainity of spring.

- on 2003-03-07 at 11:31 a.m.

wilted - blooming