So many years I have not listened enough,
My own aches and pains,
ebbing and flowing in a rhythm,
I was caught unaware.

The fall, my trigger.
The excitement of crisp air and visible breaths,
Hot chocolate and discussions of the previous year,
Routinely flooded with task lists and to-dos,
Until the melt and thaw,
Gave way to outdoor duties and recreation.
Time was never empty.

But this year was different.

No bustling,
The distinct lack of hustling.
Hours filled with little more than mutters to myself,
Days that passed without interaction.

I feel the pull now,
The dark, deep water giving itself to the moon.
No harbors to hold the waters still as they
Withdraw.

Waiting for the sun to rise,
Kiss my lips with it's warm embrace.
With it, the swell of the tide
Emergence of life in the shallows,
Where the light penetrates all the way down.

The spring, my hope.