Reflections of Spring

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

I remember the days of Spring. The whole world coming alive in a sea of color and delicious scents. A time to see the rebirth of life and of hope. A ritual of rejuvenation of the body and the soul.

REFLECTIONS OF SPRING

By Al Garcia

I remember the days of Spring. The whole world coming alive in a sea of color and delicious scents.  A time to see the rebirth of life and of hope.  A ritual of rejuvenation of the body and the soul. 

Spring was a time that consumed my mind with the splendor of all of nature’s sights and sounds that surrounded me and astounded me.  The fields of swaying sugar cane, the gentle waves along the river’s edge, the warm embrace of the golden rays of sun.  Reflections in my mind devoured the sights, the sounds, the textures that mesmerized my mind with the dawning of Springtime and of promises yet to come. 

Spring used to bring me memories of waking to the serenade of Bluebirds, Chickadees Titmice, Red-Winged Blackbirds and Cardinals singing -- sounds that floated on the gentle breeze that shook the morning dew from the mesquite trees and the sleeping beds of blooming flora, waiting for the rays of sun to stir awake the remnants of the night before. 

But now, the world has changed around me.  The mellow days of Spring replaced with days of uncertainty and fear.  Gone are the wistful misty showers, and my marveling at the beauty of the gentle, graceful fields and pastures that used to welcome the approaching hues and shades and tints of Spring’s rich green foliage and budding wild flowers.  Instead, I left to shelter in place and wait, while Spring begins to pass me by.

How strange to see and live in this changing time that has slayed the tranquility of an anxious world used to being in control, and determined to extinguish itself, through it’s own hand at the push of a button, or at the end of a weapon – whether one at a time, or hundreds, or thousands or millions. 

I remember the days of Springs, when I could put aside the horrors and terrors of man-made atrocities and mayhems, if only one day.  Spring brought me days when I could welcome in the fresh breeze of hope and expectation, as the world began to wake from the bitter cold and solitude of fall and winter, and when blossoms bloomed and birds sang, and my spirits rose to meet the challenges I faced.  But now, the changing rhythm of my life and of the seasons, has extinguished the simple pleasure of what Spring was meant to be. 

What I have left are only reflections of Spring, and of a life before the betrayal of my life, and of the promises of tomorrows.  I still have the sound of morning serenades by wondering birds outside my window, and of sunsets, rainbows and the essence of who I used be.  I feel but a specter and a phantom of who I used to be, now drifting aimlessly with the tide of time, just waiting, patiently and fearfully, for the quiet and the safety to return. 

There is an emptiness where once Spring filled with hope and joy.  There is a lingering and enduring sense of longing for a season that is slowly fading into the folds of time, before I get a chance to savor its beauty and magnificence. 

Reflections of Spring – memories and dreams of times before, when Spring lifted my spirit and empowered me to dream.  And I remember all the colors, the fragrancies, the textures, the sunsets and the rainbows.  How wonderous life can be, even if I only have my memories and the reflections of Spring.


Submitted: June 04, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

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