Drip
Drop
Shushing
water sounds
puddle at my feet
Rain drizzles over daffodils
Lonely birds cry out their love songs

**********

Milk shakes,
intense conversation,
late night diner.

Cherry trees dance,
pink and whte gowns swaying
in time with spring winds

5 years. Nearly 4,000 American lives, and many times that many Iraqi lives. And none of that counts in the cost in wounded bodies and wounded souls. It doesn't count in the hidden costs that will be revealed later. It doesn't count the ripple effects of those wounded bodies and souls.

A friend of my dad's is coming home. His boots are already on American soil, and his wife is looking forward. His children, when they learn that he's coming back, will be ecstatic. And yet...

Will there be help for him and his family as he tries to make the transition between war zone and peaceful Midwestern town? Will there be adequate support for his children as they get their father back, only to have to share him with his military duties? Will there be support for his wife as she tries to go from single parent to part of a larger family again?

So much has been happening - my husband and I just had our 9th anniversary, which we quietly celebrated. We also travelled out to see my sister and to participate in my niece's funeral. And my sister and I are planning to meet up at my favorite warm springs to take the waters together.

And spring has been worming its not-so-subtle way into my feet again. Even with the lingering chill at night, I'm ready to be outside - hey, some of the trees have little leaf buds, and a few are in bloom - it must be camping season already. I even have a couple of homemade camping stoves, ready to be tested, and some day-hike ideas (I'm not quite up to regular backpacking, but dayhikes centered around a base camp sound mighty appealing.)

For a coworker

Pilgrimmage beckons,
far lands whisper of soul-rest
to wandering feet

Roll, River Jordan,
carrying our hopes of peace
into the desert.

Ah, the joys of the National Capitol region

There's a really good reason why I practically never drive into D.C. Contrary to what you might have heard on the news, the worst gridlock in the Nation's Capitol isn't actually in the Capitol, but on the streets just outside. I, at least, was granted a brief glimpse of that which was clogging up my route last night - a motorcade. Whee. Shiny black Escalades, marked police cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Several streets cut off, so that those of us who would have possibly chosen another route had no escape. *sigh*

And I found myself wondering who it was who was in the middle of the chaos. Or not. Frankly, if I were going to get said person where they had to go, I'd stick them in a Prius or a Civic (both incredibly common around here, because the streets are narrow and congested, and you spend a lot of time waiting for a break in traffic.) with tinted windows.

But what do I know? If I'd been smart, I'd have found a way to take the train.

A respite

Took a break tonight and just played the banjo with my instructor. "Will the Circle be Unbroken" spoke to me, and seemed to practically flow into my fingers as I picked it up. The last couple of weeks have been hard, and I admit, the banjo has sat, untouched, waiting to be picked up. I thought of all the practice time that has gone by and wondered if my fingers would fumble over the strings, but instead, it was as though they had been waiting for me to give them the banjo again.

This morning, two flocks of geese flew overhead, as though to remind me that spring is again here, even if my bones are still complaining of the cold, and my feet growing restless in the house.

Geese fly past,
dragging spring in their wake,
singing to the sun.

Bleh

It's been a hard week and a half. Shortly after getting my sister's news, my husband got sick - not deathly sick, but coughing up green and no energy sick, and I've basically been running around trying to nurse him, get ready for the funeral this weekend, and be a good shoulder to cry on.

I'm pooped.

I want it to be spring already. I want to take our tent and the coffee can stove my husband and I made out to a nearby camp and enjoy some campfire stew and mocha. I want to finish the alcohol stove we've been contemplating, and test it out. (I've made a different kind of alcohol stove, but this one should be more efficient.) I want to eat pancakes and eggs in camp, then watch the hummingbirds check out our gear.