Friday, early

It's 5:55 am. The rain was pounding against the window earlier, I should turn on the light, trying to type in the dark. I've been feeling a little blank lately, not down, just not much to say, yet I try to keep the writing practice, both here and on paper.

Here's a poem (well, I think it's actually part of a much longer poem) by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. (I think it's from Aurora Leigh, but I can't remember.):

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only [she] who sees, takes off [her] shoe;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Now that's it's spring the whole earth has errupted in leaf, and flower and song and life.
Hyvää perjantaina! (Happy Friday.)

The rain had stopped by the time I left, and I did walk.  The cherry trees have now dropped most of their petals with help from the wind. The ground is covered in them, looking like the scene after a blow-out party or parade. The petals swirl in the eddies of the wind like pink snowflakes, pile up in drifts like dirty snow. The bricks are slippery. The party has passed.  Crap, sometimes I am an emotional moron. (And I mean that in the most affectionate way.) I suppose that really was a date. (Sometimes hard to tell when both people are vague and non-committal about the whole thing.)