August
“When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spend
all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking
of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body
accepts what it is. In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among
the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.”
–Mary Oliver
Where is that giggling bounding joy? The one that comes each day of the greening. Pause…inhale…discern…locate… Each new scent. Each new sound. Closing my eyes, following and searching, grinning, opening eyes wide in Joyful Passion filled abandon having located its source.
Spring Joy--elisabeth connelley
Where does it hide in the winter?
OH! There it is….
Scent of Meyer Lemons!
It’s also smelling basil, though I cannot post that one this morning, it got frosted over night on the windowsill! Shhh…ignore that part…imagine bright green and very large basil leaves, radiating light through leaves, creamy denseness upon fingertips…fingertips across lips and inhaled mmmm nothing like it.
I think for me, knowing passion comes more easily with each new sight and sound of the growing season, it is still to be had in Winter, I just need to pay more attention and rummage a bit!
Elisa's Spot 