Sameness. The wind pushes against the door as I try to go outside. The mountains are shrouded. The eyes blink and even my little dog sneezes with the dust laden wind. Sameness.

Until. Until the whisper drew my eyes up straight into the wind. With eyes squinting, the difference seen made the wind’s voice go silent. When did the transformation happen? Did I not look yesterday and see only gray fingers dancing with the wind? Were not the winter’d arthritic fingers of the branches dancing in the wind yesterday? When did they cover their nakedness and take on the first robes of spring? When did the first exuberant unfolding of spring occur? Like prayer flags streaming in the sky they danced.

I bowed to winter’s soft exit. I bowed to spring’s entrance. I bowed to the eternal until……………