Sending Up Sporophytes

I
I started the day as I usually do: checked email; read the New York Times; reviewed my Feedly list of blog posts.

One of those posts ran up a flag, and I did something I have rarely done before. I commented.

Julie Zickefoose pondered "spirit lights," a term suggested by a reader. Unlike most of the other commenters, and perhaps Zickefoose herself, I don't believe in paranormal "anythings," but I do believe in spirit.


II
Abbo's Alley's snow-melt opened little pockets of green: an inch-worth of daffodil here, a twisted vining shoot there, and everywhere mosses and lichen preening in first sun. 

One stump hosted a party of soft green things, dotted here and there with red caps and yellow tendrils and auburn sporophytes. 


III
"What day is it?" asked Pooh.

"It's today," squeaked Piglet.

"My favorite day," said Pooh.


IV
This is why I walk every day: to let go of my anxieties, aches, memories, -- all the clutter that clogs the spirit of thought.

This is why I blog every day: to put down some small, distilled inklings and send up little flags.


V
Maybe someone listens.