My garden is sleeping. These are the long days of Winter. At least to my mind they are like the darkness before the dawn. There are no flowers to cheer me, no green to freshen the landscape made bleak by ice and snow. Even the sunshine, welcome as it is, reminds me of how long I must wait before Spring comes to stay. I miss the songs of the birds. I miss the warmth of the sun. I miss the long walks on my favorite paths. But I must wait.
It is the waiting that I need so very much-- and that I very much do not want. There are many lessons here, if only I will learn them. While my garden is sleeping, I am waiting. And learning.
It is the waiting that I need so very much-- and that I very much do not want. There are many lessons here, if only I will learn them. While my garden is sleeping, I am waiting. And learning.
Hibernate, my tender bulb. ere you see the sun again, and you shall sing for joy. but for now, sleep. It is the time of waiting. soon, you shall see the sun again. :)
ReplyDeleteIf you only knew how well you have hit the mark with your words, Cimorine. For now, though, I'm afraid I'm sleepless in Saint Mary's...
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