A sanctuary for creative writing and imagery

Quiet Spring

Hot sun

Cold air

Springtime.

This day of rebirth pushes me out into the bright world and I move against the still air, cool, drawing the warmth from my flesh. Nothing is green as I traverse the earth, her skin cracked from the cold, dry winter of yesterday; fields of death and dust. Where is spring?

Trailing down her worn paths,

across red bridges,

across red bridges,

red bridges.

Red.

She blushes as she parts. Sliding down her valley walls, hand caressing the golden grasses I find a place apart. It’s quiet- not the loud, barren quiet of above- but a peaceful humming. Plants quietly growing, birds quietly working, life quietly flowing like the stream slipping around her curves at the base. Hidden from the bluster the ground awakens against pillows of warmth, stalks and shoots lift their heads toward the blue canopy of their bed.

Warm sun

Quiet waters

Springtime.

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Happy spring!

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One response

  1. Lovely!

    May 29, 2013 at 10:40 pm

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