No more awesome Spring have I witnessed in my lifetime than this one, this year.

Mid-seventies on the North Coast (Lake Erie) today in Dreamland  and already many of the blossoming fruit trees (the weeping cherry, for one) are giving up first petals to warm breezes and carpeting my running paths like a bridal aisle leading to an inevitability of a honeymooning marathon without a line of finish.

I lay about the fields of Dreamland, post-run, casting my heart-soul to the uncaptivation that is the freeness (and freshness) of Life.  Even now in late April, when showers should be about to bring the earliest of May flowers, the summery-like sunshine-heat is already pushing the May flowers (which danced like faces out of the ground in early April) aside and inducing summer wild things into precocious emergence.  That goes  not only for flowers, and buds, and bugs, but even asteroids falling out of the sky.  Or maybe this last mention was just the gimlet sighting of an alien spaceship with a fiery tale coming to Earth to check out the wicked pubescence of a Spring that’s already lost its virginity bigtime.

I’m playing my part: already running, yearning, howling like a (wannabe) madman entrained by the imminent march of a summertime orb Sun-Ra across this odyssey called Unleash-Me Sky.  Twenty miles fleet-footed (ran, in the common vernacular) over the last three days.  My feet are dancing, dancing.   And there is a spider orchid (Brassia) blooming somewhere observing from afar my most peculiar vivacity.

Are you doing your part?  Are you craving?  Are you crazed?  Are you pregurgitating the beach-baked pheromones of love?  Are you jolding (Spanish, for holding) hotly yet with the one that yearns (that you yearn) to jold (you) tight? 

Better in this accelerated season of effulgent life to be too alive to be scripted than predictably described as the one who methodically turns off the last house light at night.

written from Dreamland, mid-day April 30.