The colourless gains its palette
The cold harshness has tenderized
The heat of the sun strengthens
The souls that it touches feed off its energy
The power of the collective consciousness
The collective sigh of relief palpable
The change is anew and
The long asleep start to stir
The restless start to scurry with jovial levity
The ballerina takes flight…
The melody has entranced her
At 42 years old I think I’m ready to declare my favourite month. Although hot July days warm my arthritic bones, December rings in the New Year and all the Christmas feels, and autumn days are bursting with colour—still, autumn feels like a sad ending. March is where my heart truly belongs. The shift from winter to spring fills me with the sense of new beginnings. I am also very much a morning person, out walking the streets with my dog before dawn. The start of a new day is when I am at my best—when I am able to think more clearly and I am most creative. There is just something about March that is different than April when spring is already in full swing. March is when I notice the days getting a few minutes longer and the sun feels slightly warmer on my face, even if the air is still crisp. Each morning I hear the growing chorus of the birds chirping as if they are seemingly calling me, inviting me to share in their excitement. Then the most happiest of returns, the Canadian Geese! I catch them flying over head in the corner of my eye—the early birds I call them—the ones that could not wait to return with the rest in later weeks. The true patriotic geese that sit perched on the peeks of the neighbouring homes, announcing their arrival by honking in unison as the sky fills with the morning light. Their very presence tells me that spring days are but a few more happily honks away. Tell me, what could be better than the melody of March?
Thoughts At F___ It Forties 