Where the creek bends is as good a place as any, pills in your pocket, short note signed. Cold in January, lonely too, but that feels right. Until you notice those bare stalks are forsythia, dried seed heads—rudbeckia? Ironweed? And you think you can wait, like them, for spring.
Rebecca Cuthbert writes fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. See more at rebeccacuthbert.com.
Absolutely adore this – love of natural beauty as salvation. How many millions times of times has that been true? :)
Wow–this one took my breath away. Perfection.
perfection!
nature – life – reflection – good piece
Wow … a timely reflection when we need it most, with a sentence of six more weeks of winter being handed down by Punxsutawney Phil.