~ catkins on the wing ~

spring has come and i could no longer resist. to sit on the post-winter grass, sharp yet soft, to breathe in the scent of river. to find catkins that recall all the homemplaces, all heart-warming thresholds.
a seagull landed. a butterfly fluttered. a bumblebee flew and disappeared. a duck looked around. a beaver swam. an ice floe floated to my shore and turned, and then floated further.

i sang going through my playlist. recalling the well-known, saturated riffs and passages. serenity. sunwarmth. being.

green angels of bieszczady mountains. by the edge of feather.

i'm being heathenly unproductive. lost the count of days. i guess i'd use some resocialization after the last weeks, too. mind somewhere. laces on the wind.

flutter. flutter. gone.