I lived some repentance and forgiveness. I felt the burden then the freedom. I drove 60 miles to sing out with some sisters  and find the smile I had been missing. I kept staring at the sky waiting for a rainbow so I could follow it to find the gold, I stuck my hands in empty pockets. The empty is getting old. 

I walked 3 miles down gravel roads to the big tree picking up beer cans and plastic bottles. Little boys with walking sticks they turned them into instruments and played a song for me on the way back. The sun and the wind and windows open wide, the dusting off what had been sitting over winter, the putting away and making space for possibility and a fresh coat of paint. 

I put on a dress and some makeup. I watched a junior high basketball game on the big stage, then drove over to the gig to play my own stage. My brain was scattered from the wind and the walking and the cheering for the defense. I was glad to see friendly faces. I was glad to sing songs for the people who come see me once a month in the back room of a local gallery where we talk  and laugh and I try to remember all the words. 

It's Sunday morning. The sun is streaming through the bay window and I'm seated at the kitchen table. This is why we bought this house. For the window. And for the big blue spruce pine in the backyard.  

Spring is slowly moving in and seeds are wishing to be buried into soil and sprout up new and strong. This is the time of year when things regain their strength. When there's a waking and working and wanting that's undeniable. I can feel it.  

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