Cruel Month

“Now the full-throated daffodils,
Our trumpeters in gold,
Call resurrection from the ground
And bid the year be bold.” Cecil Day Lewis

Torrential rain here in Maine. Roads washed out until now they are nothing but broken things. Such a sad thing to happen to a road. Where will they go now? Nothing should end in a pile of debris and the silt and stones of soft shoulders. A road is the original creator of boldness. A road is what takes us on life’s journey. You take it or you don’t, but it’s always beckoning. Boldness begins now, as Goethe wrote. But without a road, that boldness becomes nothing but bravado.

Water is bold, too, in its destructive nature. But it can also be benign and life giving. The duality of nature. Something humanity should not forget as we strive for goodness or lapse into apathy. We can’t deny our dualistic nature. If we do, we are a road washed out in spring. A road to nowhere.

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