Spring Winks

“April is the cruellest month, breeding/ Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing/ Memory and desire, stirring/ Dull roots with spring rain.” —From T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land Just beyond my reach  in the highest branches, tilted just enough for the sun to catch the edge and cause the tiny flower to wink, grasp myContinue reading “Spring Winks”

Lingering

I hope for a lingering day, moments stretching long and leaning into the warmth of a slow rising sun  that decides to amble across the sky, a casual stroll before allowing the full moon  to rise, the evening embracing us in twilight’s dreamy lilac and amber glow, and the moment, a holding breath,  leading upContinue reading “Lingering”

Daffodil Prayers

“Daffodils, that come before the swallow dares, and take the winds of March with beauty.” — William Shakespeare. I wondered at the vibrant yellow, the rich saturation of this bowing daffodil, the happy hue  of a fluted bloom that greeted  me this morning, It seemed the sun had poured in its warmth, filled it  withContinue reading “Daffodil Prayers”

A Pleasant Passing

I saw a wispy puff of spring next to a little sunny bloom on a warm afternoon in January. The sun sent waves through the crystalline blue, and I was content to sit under the cloud-strewn sky and pray next to the little garden. —C.L. Fisher, January 2021 Unless otherwise indicated, all content, including writingContinue reading “A Pleasant Passing”

Walking Into October

Early in the morning,  just as the sun rose high  enough to warm without blinding us, we walked  into October. The birds  sang that cheery song that seems a release  of summer’s heat, a heralding for the tucked-in time of nesting in the warmth  of home. The curl of leaves  taking on the hues ofContinue reading “Walking Into October”

Bright Air & Ashes

It catches me sometimes when I’m unaware, when I  step out to feel the warmth on my face, to hear the birds, the bright air in full sun that tastes of dirt and light, like the earth after a blue-sky rain — the taste of childhood. That scent takes me to swings and trees, toContinue reading “Bright Air & Ashes”

Being Still

“But these are flowers that fly and all but sing…” — Robert Frost I often catch the movement  above me as I walk along  the garden’s edge, and I know,  if I am patient, one will alight  near enough to see. I thought  the cold winds from a few days  past had called and liftedContinue reading “Being Still”