Stranded

It has been raining and spring is starting to roll in like a thundercloud. It obscures everything I do. Just when the molasses is thickest, the sun comes out. It’s just as well. I’ll be swimming in the river soon enough, and already I feel that it will be a sort of awakening. I’ll shed my skin in the green water just as surely as any snake. It’s calling to me like a dinner bell, and I might just be hungry enough to answer it the right way this time around. I look at the people that have been popping up lately and something tells me I ought to recognize all of this from something I may have seen before, or dreamed maybe. 

But if life has taught me anything, it’s that everything is unpredictable except maybe the moon and the tides. Maybe even right and wrong aren’t so clear sometimes. I might just be in a place for a while where confusion is queen, where the unstruck note is the most important part of the whole orchestrated piece. I am planning on being okay with this, but I don’t expect anyone to follow me. 

I put on my moccasins earlier tonight and went out for a while. The air still has a chill to it but there is an electric urgency to it as well. The spring always comes when it is most needed, like a storm traveling thousands of miles just to water some poor dirt farmer’s crops. I have been in the wrong place for far too long, and I am not speaking of geography. I think I will choose to see these April showers as a sort of benediction, gently urging me on my way to some distant place, some place that I have seen before but never quite reached.