Drifting. Like the few clouds in the sky. Thoughts frayed and incomplete yet beautiful. Hills were just springing into life, tinged light green. The lane I walked, lined with drying winter ruts, would be dusty and soft in summer sun. There would be time for that later. Today, I felt the silence that shrugged around my shoulders and was glad. Glad that there were buds on the trees, new grass peering carefully above the ground, even glad that weeds were boldly showing life again. Robins searching the still moist ground for worms my only companion. My shadow grew long. Breathing deeply of the late spring sun, I gathered peace and balance within me for my return home.
“The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts.”
~ Marcus Aurelius, Meditations