Last week was the cross-quarter - the halfway through winter moment; the light increasing; the snow and ice melting. Ice flows breaking apart carrying ice fishermen into Lake Erie, reminding them of their very small stature. Spring surges beneath the surface. The pressure pushing, breaking apart the old, the frozen; breaking free.
Y'all hung in there with me through this last three part poem: the dictionary. It's a hard poem about hard work among other things. It's not comfortable. The pressure builds.
And then the sap rises. The ice cracks. The waters get troubled. And the release begins.
Here's a little something to soothe the way:
Eva Cassidy - Wade In the Water
Striped icebergs of Antarctica