In the stillness of the spring afternoon, birds resting, frogs yet to start their evening song, I find her in the yard loud in her brightness: the first yellow crocus of spring. She is catching raindrops with her swaying body, dancing with them and then returning them to the earth.
She chugs the coconut smoothie down with a loud gulp, fingers on yellow glass as beautiful in their curvature as a violinist dancing bow over strings.
I grab the joy in the yellow afternoon with both arms. It's been a long soul drought, this working on writing, the dry, technical words parching my eyes. One yellow crocus, and they dance with tears.
You will show me the path of life: in your presence is fullness of joy; at your right hand there are pleasures forevermore. (Psalm 16:11)
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| Linked to Lisa-Jo's prompt, Loud |
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