Beauty, sweet Love, is like the morning dew,
Whose short refresh upon the tender green
Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show,
And straight 'tis gone as it had never been.
I dropped a lot of little balls, I woke up feeling anxious, and I am not really sure why. I had so many strands clutched in my hand that I could feel sliding out of my grasp. What exactly am I worried about? Looking grumpy, being called out, losing ground?
Hard to say.
Then this morning, in the midst of another busy, hectic morning routine I encountered dew on leaves. I had brushed past them several other times, but those dew drops stopped me in my tracks today. They only catch the light like that on grey days. Their beauty evaporates with sunshine.
Soon it will be summer. Beach days will usurp daycare days, picnic lunches will take the place of frozen pizzas, backpacks will be emptied and get filled again with bathing suits and sand. When the autumn gusts return, I will be ready.