While lying here with the windows open and ceiling fan churning, I hear the traffic on the near freeway. I feel the warm air layered on top of a subtle chill that is winter relinquishing its hold of this space, and spring/summer moving in.
It is in the moment, I realized that with the chaos of spring, the transition, is when my own thoughts are the most chaotic, random, slipping from my grasp, before returning in a different form, with a different question.
Whereas winter, the thoughts are singular as I go within for warmth and simplicity.
