A question (at the end), a description and a nymph
Spring seems to come earlier here in London than anywhere else. It is hardly February and yet the change of season can be felt in the air. It is barely visible, a not-quite-yet tangible reality. I feel as though if I took the time to just stand a watch a tree, I could see it coming to life, stretching its limbs, slowly awakening to a new year. Bushes, nomal and bland to the impartial observer, at closer examination reveal a world of green mist, slowly filling in the gaps between the once again wick branches. Rain has returned to London, bringing with it the much needed source of life for the beautiful shoots of flowers sprouting out of every available patch of green.
Spring brings surprises around every corner, especially in a new city. In Leipzig, I knew exactly when it would begin to show its face. The face of a playful little girl, ready to play, awakening the old grandparents, reminding them of their childhood. The crocuses, taking in more territory every year, suddenly appearing as though God had snapped his fingers and there they were, a beautiful carpet of purple, blue, white and yellow, weaving together in some divine pattern. I saw some today for the first time in London, resplendent in white-purple glory. There were only 5, seen through a fence, a glimpse of God’s artistry, perfect and serene.
Why is it that Spring always makes me feel so alive? The sun, not quite warm, but shining out pure anticipation for the days when it is allowed to shine in its full brilliance. Walking down the street today I could feel myself almost turning into the fabled nymphs of the forest, celebrating the beauty that God has put on the earth, just for me. I managed to suppress the very real urge to dance and prance and leap for joy, although I did spontaneously burst into song occasionally. Ah, I love Spring.
p.s Does Spring turn any one else into a ridiculous poetic?
Spring brings surprises around every corner, especially in a new city. In Leipzig, I knew exactly when it would begin to show its face. The face of a playful little girl, ready to play, awakening the old grandparents, reminding them of their childhood. The crocuses, taking in more territory every year, suddenly appearing as though God had snapped his fingers and there they were, a beautiful carpet of purple, blue, white and yellow, weaving together in some divine pattern. I saw some today for the first time in London, resplendent in white-purple glory. There were only 5, seen through a fence, a glimpse of God’s artistry, perfect and serene.
Why is it that Spring always makes me feel so alive? The sun, not quite warm, but shining out pure anticipation for the days when it is allowed to shine in its full brilliance. Walking down the street today I could feel myself almost turning into the fabled nymphs of the forest, celebrating the beauty that God has put on the earth, just for me. I managed to suppress the very real urge to dance and prance and leap for joy, although I did spontaneously burst into song occasionally. Ah, I love Spring.
p.s Does Spring turn any one else into a ridiculous poetic?
posted by Sarah at 10:17 AM
3 Comments:
Haha you gem! I like spring but i cant say the weather today really put me in that mood but i did look at the bridge today from outside uni's fire escape and think my goodness thats beautiful looking at the sun just after the rain always a nice smell too!
Keep going poetry girl!
nice to know that you are still bursting with engery, and excitment at the smallest of things. I mean, they really arent that small, but forgotten in our world nowadays...
you actually made me look up the word "crocuses." Good job.
What can i say sarah your an inspiration to me.....i like your style!
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