Please excuse me not looking you in the eye. I’m off somewhere over your left shoulder, gathering my thoughts and the melting snow is flying off a tree branch with all the spirit of a spring river.
Wool gathering, my gran might say in a tone that once would have stung and now simply makes me smile and think maybe, maybe.
Gathering wool, fine threads like spider silk and just as ornate. Thoughts that brush against your cheeks and make you freeze, waiting for the tickle, the crawl, waiting for the realization to fall down the neck of your coat and land somewhere deep, icy. Not all knowledges are comfortable.
Sometimes it’s a long walk and by the time I come back I realize that in my hands is a thought that is much bigger, much brighter than the answer that I thought I might give you. I hope you wore your boots today because this path is muddy and many trees have fallen, but wait a minute to taste the air and I think you’ll forgive me the stumbles. There is such a promise out here. Life, growing things.
Wool gathering, moss gathering, grasses against my fingertips. Somewhere behind you there is a chickadee exploring that now snowless tree branch and with every flutter it dislodges a little bit more winter.
There are green things stirring even now, can you hear them?
I’m out there gathering, so please excuse me. I hope you like what I bring you back.
Gosh Darn Sunlight 