5:55 A.M. No more contention, the alarm clock and I. Besides, now I hear the wind chimes on the back porch. This breezy sunrise is what I’ve been looking forward to since Tuesday.

I lace my boots, grab an apple and wake up the dog. He’s not used to me heading out this early. As we drive up the hill, his whimpered anticipation builds to animated quivers. He recognizes the bluffs where we hike.

We take the trail on the west side of the bluff out of reach of the rising sun. In motion, on the switch backs, I’m not cold, really. The dog’s excitement rushes him ahead. Off leash, he remembers to slow when he no longer hears my steps, backtracking to appear around trail corners, urging me to pick up the pace.

The scent of stables from the bluff’s base rises to meet us as we head back to the car. The dead cottonwood, the last of its kind, stands a forgotten sentinel among the pinons. It is good to have the trails of the bluff free of ice again. My mind is also aware of spring’s first touch, relaxing, stretching, forgiving.

just before April,
creative longings sprout
with the new grass