Outside my window a landscape bereft of green seems still caught in the net of winter. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night.”
Spring peepers fall silent, their vernal pools gone cold under a grey sky. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night.”
Cows soldier on heavy with life, wandering brown fields in search of any green thing. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night.”
Crocus mourn, closing bright petals against the raw wind. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night. “
In the dark, we swallowed the seeds of resurrection so in the sunlight we might come back rejoicing.
“Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life you were waiting for this moment to arise.” ~Blackbird by Paul McCartney
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Julie Atkinson
Steve
Holly Atkinson
