Arm Circles

spring has sprung. the bright light on the pancakes, coming sideways through the window, tells me so. the syrup tastes better too, warmed in its jar by the windowsill while we wait for the coffee to brew.

i'm neck deep in reading about things completely new. quasars and pulsars and what comet tails are made of. clear days mean clear nights and clear viewings of worlds far away.

worlds back in time.

when dear friends visit you're reminded of your own world back in time. like looking through a telescope and seeing that same smile, weathered only in the way smiles are when they're compounded.

these flowers are everywhere, dressed in their easter finest. i can't wait to hide chocolate eggs around the house sunday morning and act surprised when i'm the quickest to find them.

when bugs leave these swirly texts under the bark of fallen trees i think of hieroglyphics and the importance of leaving your message behind, whether you have two legs or six.

in the book jeremy bought me about ancient civilizations who've been lost i'm thankful that some of them thought to write things down so now we can know what was important to those people who have gone.

what mattered to them.

steph matters to me.

also sandwiches.

there's a program on the computer where you plug in your postal code and it shows you the night sky from your location. tonight we'll see saturn.

maybe saturn will see us too.