Eye of the Hurricane.


As spring approaches, I always think it takes forever, creeping gently, as it grows – unstoppable.  We hardly notice – but for a few buds, tiny leaflets and feeling of impending change – that all of a sudden it becomes dramatic. Once it has begun the barren world of winter becomes a riot of colour, sound and warmth – almost chaotic with its own enthusiasm.   One could almost compare it to an invisible hurricane of new life, gathering energy as it progresses, transforming the land before our eyes.

In March, the snow doesn’t fall, it grows right from the ground.

Mr. Dark – he packs his backs as Mr. Light – he comes around.

Did you know, the rain doesn’t fall, the earth is moving up.

All around the sun, or does the sun revolve around us?

Un-tie the boats and let them loose inside the harbour of my head.

Throw away the books and say many libraries I have read.

I may decide to slip inside this game…

…or I may decide there’s calm, in the eye of the hurricane.



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