One would think I’d be brimming with the fullness of the month. April is for poetry and libraries — both of which are my bag. It also gives us some of the richest southern moments when everything wakes from winter slumber and pushes, buds and petal spreads. I see it. I hear it. I do love it. But it doesn’t seem to enter me.
In fact, if anything, I’m hollow. Maybe it’s burning the candle at both ends and starting in the middle, but I don’t even think I’d muster much of a shadow right now. Don’t get me wrong — physically I’m the full flesh pot. No diminishing there. But cookies are no compensation for the soul and right now, my soul is still shrouded in dirt waiting for some warmth to call. In the meantime, the real mean time, I’ll just keep tending the books, pushing the words, shadowing life.
And you? Are you full yet?