Changes in weather remind me of changes in moods. There’s a lot of movement in the upward effort of spring.
All that winter shattered is now cleared away. New baby green paths emerge where once there was snow.
The cold silence replaced by wet wind, tapping tree limbs keeping time.
So, too, does the mind sweep from winter to spring, from scenic snowy landscape to flooded, muddy trenches.
Except there is no calendar for telling the season of the mind, no moon shape or temperature.
The mind’s moods cannot be predicted through an almanac at all.
But only felt the moment it arrives like spring.