Seasons last for years sometimes, lose their meaning, blur together, become one. Sometimes, endless days of blinding sun become their own kind of winter, bleach everything stark white; brutal and unending, branches stripped nearly bare. It has been so many years of this. Hope springs not eternal, but with breathless caution; fatherless fawn, stand bravely on unsteady legs; amble forward.
Not all landscapes are unforgiving; deep roots are not always fated to grow and wither in one place. Parched sands hold fast but not indefinitely.
Citrus blossoms fall soft at your feet; breathe a long held sigh of relief. The lemon yellow walls of your childhood bedroom are no longer too bright to think of.
A letter to yourself that you never thought you’d write —
The leaves are falling, but, twisted roots hold fast, you will last through these final months of winter. Spring comes with northern skies. Forced dormancy, after all these years, at last, comes to an end. Stretch your branches further west.
Soon, you will bloom again.
Johnny Utah’s self titled album is available on cassette through Z Tapes.
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