March

And now March is here, with her bright, cheerful sun and teasing winds. The clouds roll in the sky like they’ve not a care in the world, and the air itself hums a sweet melody. The shadows are pleasant and friendly; they tell stories in the evenings.

But something about March, even with all her confident, proud beauties, something is on edge. Something does not seem to me that it is quite right. The air isn’t as inviting and calm as it should be. I feel as if there was something I forgot. That is why I write.

But this is all probably only a miscommunication, a misunderstanding between nature and me. My expectations are too great. I crave Summer, with her cheerful, smiling sun, but all I’m getting is a mild Spring day. Which is typical for March, if you know what I mean.

Alright, I apologize and retreat. I’m being too harsh on Mother Nature. In time, Summer will come. I know that. It’s given. I look forward to that day when I will greet her. I know I won’t sleep until she is here.

Now, there is more to what I say than what I can write physically. I want to preserve this moment: the fresh breezes, the assuring sun, the grass growing ever-greener day by day. What can capture this essence? Communication can – some kind of technology….but I fear this form of communication does not exist. At least not yet, that is. No, this moment cannot be captured by video, nor writing, nor speech, nor paint, nor photograph. Perhaps by music it can… But even then no one would ever know exactly what I was seeing or thinking or feeling when I wrote the piece.

Well, I will wait until Summer. When she comes, time itself will capture the very time she brings.