It seems a distant point just now in the cold and damp evenings of West Georgia. It must seem even more remote in colder climates locked in ice and snow. The ground hog made news this week. That pampered rodent of lore predicts as well as any I suppose. We’ll have an early spring according to General Beauregard Lee. And so, I recall the memories of Spring tonight.
When sweet privet blooms mingle in May’s honeysuckle breeze days of youth and innocence tease tears and come to me shaking pretence like a dust laden welcome mat. Years fall away. Swept into May leaving only the fragrance of a yesterday when all was well or so it seems today. There will come a time when just past the privet hedge all our present troubles will loose their jagged edge. Memory is so gracious so very very kind. There is no greater healer than one May somewhere in time.
jrw © 05/10/2003