You Come Too
It's been a really lovely day here, low 70s, light breezes, a few clouds but mostly sunny. I even saw a few collectives of what Lawrence and I call dancing bugs, bouncing their two-step in the spring-like air.
It bothers me to have April weather in February, but I don't want to let that ruin the gift. And it has been a gift, a day of simple pleasures, a time to feel at peace, a time to ground myself in gratitude for the many blessings that waft through my life, when I take time to notice them.
It has been a day when the memory of a poem by Robert Frost--a simple poem, almost a prayer-- elicits gratitude for those to whom I can say, "I sha'n't be gone long--You come too."
I'm going out to clean the pasture spring; I'll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water clear, I may): I sha'n't be gone long—You come too. I'm going out to fetch the little calf That's standing by the mother. It's so young, It totters when she licks it with her tongue. I sha'n't be gone long—You come too.
Until next time,
Spring, Frank Albrecht, unSplash
Father and child, Caroline Albrecht, unSplash