Noonish in March.

Always tending to circle the weekend on my calendars. Will it rain? Will I be inside scratching my stomach? Been biking a lot. Easing back into running a lot. Changes abound.
Last night I had a long dream that changed from memories to dreams and back. A seamless interchange that I was completely unaware of:

Walking slowing down Westmoreland Dr. The church bells ringing. I love the sound of church bells; right away I feel at ease. I run down this street regularly, so it is impossible to tell if this is a dream or a distant memory. From there I turn west towards Acadian. The hycynths are blooming all over the place. People are stepping out of their homes to look at the sky. The color of wine is spilling behind the clouds. I remember an article I read that talked about the book of Revelations.
I am now sitting on my porch, drinking bourbon with a good friend. He has just played his songs to me, so i oblige with one or two of the songs i can play without fumbling too hard through the lyrics.
"You know, there is a place up ahead where the songs sounds..." His voice trails off. We knock back our glass and stair at the trees for a little while. My small jumps at a bumble bee and we laugh at friends.