
SPRING IN HOPELAND
What is it about the cadence of a swaying swing that soothes a tired mind? Is it the rhythmic pace that matches a heartbeat? Or the frayed memories of swishing to and fro, wind upon a face? Or the push, pump of a child reaching for the sky – such expectation! In this season of my life, I seek out solitude. No voices. Just the rapid gurgle of a nearby stream, The light flutter of leaves in the early Spring, Their shadows ever-changing on the path beneath my feet. In this sheltered spot, there is an embedded etching of a horse’s head – A hint of the ethos of my