The earth came full circle and bloomed in every voice who spoke. Bathed in green of so many hues: the rich dark green of the Douglas-fir, the yellow tinged unstoppable green of grass after a spot shower, and the ubiquitous metallic enchanting green of the moss who climbs unhindered making a soft carpet for wayward petals and the chance underside of human hand or tough feet of chickadee or wren. We loped in the come again sun. Laid over come-what-may logs and were encouraged by the beaver who keeps chewing even though his house is built.
Celebrating a year more of survival with Easter bonnets and the faint hint of that old time religion breezing through the incantatory old spirituals that carry a whiff of nourishing delta topsoil wherever they land.