Waiting in line, inside my warm car, the rain soaked world seems small today. Like the tiniest of drops on my window holds more promise than my heart.
That drop, like so many before it, nourishing the hedgerow I look upon. A stoic row of beauty, dressing up in the early hints of spring. Flowers of purple so excited, they blossom before the leaves are barely green.
To the left, on the end, is where my eye falls. The beauty-no-longer, the green that’s let the long sleep of winter forever take it’s being into slumber.
It too is blanketed in the mist of rain. Yet the hardened, brown branches hold their drops like billions of stars twinkling in the grey morning. No more life will be soaked into these roots.
My soul shivers, my eyes fill with tears of sadness as I see it’s companion. The two are as one, completely entertwined. Connected forever simply by where life has planted them.
I weep as the yellowness seeps into the life touched by death and the thought of those sweet flowers down the hedge that bloom today with no idea of what tomorrow is bringing.