Twilight, Early Spring

(I) She sits very still in a grassy plot that will soon be night, crossed with shadows, pierced by shafts of piercing moonlight, in the shallow darkness of early spring. I am standing a short distance from her in a grove of trees with pale green leaves. There is no breeze. Every leaf is still, even my breathing is slow and soundless. Her twilight complexion is more beautiful than twilight itself."Turn toward me, " I plead. "See me, greet me." To no avail. I walk tentatively behind her, and enter the edge of her grassy plot. Suddenly I feel like an interloper, and leave quickly. As I turn away, as I walk away, her presence weighs on me. I feel motionless air on my arms and face, I see traces of moonlight on my clothes, even the silence touches me. But that girl of spring touches me most deeply. Why do moon and trees, air and heat, darkness and fading light all acknowledge me, and yet she is silent, self-absorbed, distant even in nearness? We are sharing this silence. We are of one mind. It should be a shared spring. (II) The air is moist with desire. We are just beginning to become "Spring People." The heaviness of winter still holds many people in its cold grip. "Look at the sky! " I want to shout at them. The warmth washes over me with its pure air. I am cleansed by it, I shine because it covers me with illumination. This is as close to the Garden as we can be, and it is a wonder to be shared with someone dear. Who is that guy who's been eyeing me for two hours? He approaches me timidly, then withdraws boldly. I hope he reverses his actions. He is obviously a man of Nature and Desire. Come over here. Speak to me.