12 thoughts on “in this present little instant

  1. oh my gracious, this is GORGEOUS! that moon! and as i type i love the magic of the falling stars……xoxoxoxoxox happy blessed new year to the bestrewer of stars…..

      • SPRINGS PROMISE
        John Dombek

        The Seasons are nature’s torrid love affairs. They are lust at first sight. Each approaches at the moment the other is fading. Each surprises in the way you first discovered the stars. In the way an unexpected attraction spellbinds new lovers.
        Autumn is a cautious love. Waiting out of sight for just the right moment its steamy affair with summers’ sun dims…and its fire cools. Autumn teases our curiosity with a splash of red on a maple leaf, with a hint of yellow on a hedge, a harvest moon, and restless birds beginning to face south.
        Autumn could have been your first love; the one you discovered at a friend’s bonfire with such delight, you assumed at first it had to be the giant moon that startled you into inhaling that quick breath. You knew then, I must have autumn. And so you embraced it. Those days of lush red apples, and pumpkins-turned-into-jack-o-lanterns grew shorter. The scent of burning leaves vanished. The once cozy nights of autumn grew restless. Love grew restless. Autumn’s fling had been easy, comfortable, exciting, beautiful, and seemingly eternal. But its music was fading, its dance was ending.
        Winter is an enduring cold and clever observer. It watches patiently as summer slowly cools, and surrenders itself to autumn’s seductive spectacle of color and memory-scented bonfires. Unhurried winter, anticipating autumn’s operatic performances ending…confidently envisions frost sketching crystalline spider webs across thin sheets of ice forming on farm ponds. However, winter’s apparent patience slowly evolves into a longing for something unknown. Something softer. Something quieter than the brazen show of scent and color that precedes it. Something that can be both powerful and gentle. Winter could have been your first love.

        Remember? That is you bundled in a fleece coat and fur-lined boots, walking slowly through a cotton-ball-snowfall sifting through an evergreen forest, preparing its freezing brooks for skaters. That’s the two of you…home again, laughing again; warm and comfortable near a fireplace. Sheltered from a blizzard demanding an entrance thru frosted windows and shivering doors.
        A winter love can be an adventure: Exciting and dangerous sometimes. Unpretentious sometimes. Exhilarating and exhausting…always. However, like autumn, sooner or later winter tires of itself, and looks elsewhere. Air pockets appearing on the melting ice of its uneasy brooks, encourage swifter waters to inform the trout of their hunger. Winter loses its confidence, sensing something wary in the warming air. Winter requires a miracle. A change. A release.
        Something new. Something creative. Something vital to reenergize its significance.
        Restless spring has been quietly waiting under a blanket of snow. Mischievously hiding eager seeds among the fallen leaves, while waiting for winter to take its last breath. Spring is the fulfillment of winters’ desire. It arouses the fire of life in everything living. She is an explosion of dance that saturates earth wither her energized sun. Lights her nights with a lusty moon, and provides deliciously warm days with an intoxicating joy that stirs desire.
        Spring could have been your first love; exciting, real, overwhelming. It is the first absolute loss of ego surrendered to another. Spring is a first encounter with complete fascination. Spring is like the time you discovered that the stars from a first kiss, were more alluring than the stars overflowing the Milky Way.
        Spring has a magnificent promise: Hot summers will be cooled by showers. Autumn colors will astonish, and fade, and die, and reappear. Winter snows will fall, and melt, and flow away…and fall again. Spring is the assurance life continues, and love never ends.

      • John, this is lovely. Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing with me. I see that each of the four seasons has been your first love. I think the same is true of me. I could never choose which one I love most…

        Kindest regards, and all my best wishes to you and Barb for a bright and beautiful 2018. ❤

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