Spring Footing

I have had insomnia of late. Last night I took to the deck so I could bathe in the full moonlight and try to tire my eyes reading accounts of the late great Prince and scratching some words down. The problem is my mind is a flurry--so many roots spilling forth in all directions that I don't feel rooted, lest I forget to do something needing doing. I wonder if we carry the seasons in our ribs. We must. Outside, spring is greening and quickening. All manner of blooms and bugs and birds alighting. I swear our asparagus crop shoots up 10 inches overnight. Our woods have gone wild again with poison ivy and ticks, little stirrings with every step through the ground cover as I search for morels so that it keeps me on edge as for the source. We had tulips slipping open but deer already made a home for them in their bellies. It's no wonder I can't sleep with all of this flourishing. No wonder I can't focus and quiet my mind when it too is a kind of spring. Another month and the flurry will slow and steady, shoots will harden into stems and branches. Our schedules will clear for a moment, I'll sleep. It happens again and again doesn't it--things seem hectic and overnight you catch a break until it starts all over again. It is a beautiful, wild thing--our living. As if the universe knows how much we can take and when to let up. I guess it takes a kind of grace to balance these seasons--a kind of faith to know things will root eventually. It matters not the strength of our footing. You could be holding onto a twig or a branch. It matters only that we are holding on.