Monday, May 24, 2004

The Truest Measure

The Truest Measure

The truest measure of spring is not the chorus of green peepers calling
beyond the fold of the river, nor geese lamenting northward, nor the sound
of their wings. These are memories only. But last night, after a rain, I stood
on the step and listened to earthworms drawing leaves into the soil beneath
the lawn. This sound is the slow repair of the season, the truest measure of spring.

Amy Lavender Harris, April 2004

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