I have been a bit absent minded (and plain absent from the blog world) lately.
Time has slipped away from me. I blinked and suddenly it was spring.
Today I have a sense of rusty cogs starting back up, of changes on the horizon
- yet still too far away to make out. It's been a few months now,
when my man has been the one working himself to the bone
while I have basically been standing still. Though, maybe I haven't..?
Maybe what I've been doing is catching up with myself.
"Ja visst gör det ont när knoppar brister. Varför skulle annars våren tveka? Varför skulle all vår heta längtan bindas i det frusna bitterbleka? Höljet var ju knoppen hela vintern. Vad är det för nytt, som tär och spränger? Ja visst gör det ont när knoppar brister, ont för det som växer och det som stänger."
"Yes it hurts when buds are bursting.
Why else would spring hesitate?
Why else would all our hot longing
be tied up in the frozen bitter pale?
The scales were the bud all winter.
What is this new, that drains and tears?
Yes it hurts when buds are bursting,
hurts for that which grows
and for that which closes.")