Twitching Toward A Sun

Monday, March 25, 2013

The air inside my office is cool. The computer fan hums low so low as to be almost imperceptible. My ears are ringing a bit more than they usually do. When I left my space to go get lunch the air was hovering around the freezing mark. Such are the days of March.


It is in this period between and betwixt the real spring and the harshest of winter that I long most for warm sun. In Michigan we can have many false springs. On the days of promise bright little dewdrop like flowers will appear. On days of despair they will then be buried under six inches of snow. These blossoms will survive and reappear again. Song birds will be present suddenly one day and then gone the next. The trilling will reappear.


On days like this I want to scream and rant. On days like this I want to be a shaman and do a dance that will bring the season of birth into full force. I rage at this in-between. Cabin fever? You think so, eh? Me too.