Brave enough to taste it

There's a breath of newness on the air today, one can almost be brave enough to taste it, cold as it is. The birds feel valiant, too, and are singing about it, merrily bouncing on tree tops at the most delicate hour of the day. I feel like a veil has been ripped away, yet still lingers long enough for me to feel its texture against the flood of what's new. How different, and frightening, like leaning over the rail of a ship, and keeping your silly brain from rebelling against unfamiliar circumstances.

I think this is good for me, but I'm willing to wait and see. All my feelings are drawn taut, vibrating, stumbling as they try to make their way forward. As I try to get a handle on them, as I try to reason with them. But I've never been very reasonable; patient, maybe, and loyal at my best, and mostly, willing to change. Under the clear, singing sky I'm hopeful again, and grateful.