One need not be a chamber to be haunted,
  One need not be a house;
  The brain has corridors surpassing
  Material place.

           -Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

   Traveling your heart's corridors do you spy your childhood springs? 

   Across decades ensconced in courtrooms or encased in hospitals it was often hard to embrace God's most splendrous season.

   Butterflies were screened off by office windows/ birds so hard to hear./ Difficult to smell a rose/ through boardroom wall veneers. 

   Childhood springs were vibrant with miracles collected from the backs of petals & the thighs of eucalyptus trees. I scribbled secrets on scraps & time-capsuled them into the slim space between the neighbor's garage & the stucco wall built too close behind it. 

   Today, I thrust a hand into the new earth & found them. "One day you will remember that your springs are limited, your body will re-enter this earth & your soul will soar free," they said. "That spring may bring a bitter taste. Open your heart to new secrets & be glad again." 

   And my friend Emily wrote this to me: "Two butterflies went out at noon/ And waltzed above a stream,/ Then stepped straight through the firmament/ And rested on a beam;…"

   Most men I know would dismiss all this as romantic nonsense. I hope it stirs a precious secret hidden in your heart & christens you with sacred eyes.

   No need to mourn missed springs. Embrace this one. 

-Erie Chapman

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Photoart: "Springs Hidden Heart" – by Erie