Singing Sweet Songs

I wake early, bright morning sun streaming into my room; it gets too warm. I open the window wide and take in bird song and magnolia scents with the incessant drone of Seventh avenue. Since last I saw the courtyard, six, maybe seven hours ago, a thousand new buds have burst into life and smother the barren trees in their new-green, pink, red colors. I feel like I am watching a time-lapse and fear blinking, lest I miss it and Spring will be over before I realize it, before I make sure to extract every drop of manic life force therein. I revel.

Every day is spent staring into that bright sun, spent indulging in street-side seating and strawberry picnics. I neglect the messy home, the work to get done, the obligations of Real Life, and I haven't the slightest inclination to be concerned about it. I am too busy waking up, too busy emerging from hibernation. I am too busy smelling the roses; I have my priorities straight.

But then my sister asked me Are you writing? and I become aware that I haven't had a thought to it. My senses have been so busy dancing around my head that there has been no space left for the Word. Suddenly I missed winter angst, missed the dark, quiet hermit within me and the countless hours of peace. I am a sucker for painted portraits; I seem to cling persistently to myths of tortured genius and artistic mania, and I fear I can reach neither while the sun beams unconditionally on me. And despite all those weeks of worthless wait, of not being truly human, she is the person I know, she is the familiar face, and I fear now I will not see her for many months.

Where is my word, then?

I go to sleep late. Joy rushes through my blood and I cannot force myself to bed, nor do I have the desire to. Magnolia petals outside my window begin to fall to the ground below. Bare legs come home late and flip, flop all the way up the stairs; I hear them through the thin door as I finally pass out. A new day tomorrow. A new sunrise. A new adventure in the making, and the word will come, when it will.