Spring is Hear
I purchased this artwork from Ella, my neighbor two doors down. She and her friend set up a roadside gallery and how could I resist original art for a quarter?
I love this piece. Spring is Hear. A spelling error making a perfectly profound statement. I live in Montana, where Winter means
Windows closed, houses insulated from
Snow falling silently, forming dense blankets over sleeping gardens,
Conversations muffled in the weave of knit scarves.
Birds chatter, re-acquainting, seeking shelter from the
Rain pelting my rooftop while thunder grumbles at the
Children laughing, splashing, outside my open window.
Spring is Hear!