Spring teases this year.
The pitter pat outside my window
tugs on my robe. I cannot refuse.
My body slightly shivers. Briskness brings
awareness to my body, of being here outside,
and hearing the rain, of feeling alive.
As much as I love the warmth
of being inside,
I’ve come to appreciate the cold
in a way I hadn’t before.
Cold now fills me with warm spinning planets.
On this morning, I absorb what I see and feel, wanting to reach out,
to lift—to fly—into the sky—a smooth coat of gray-white paint pulled taught across
its body, and I want to reach out to the lime green hills that shine bright
amongst forested patches of emerald shrubs and yellowed bamboo.
And I sigh…take a moment,
breathe in and out, breathe in
every last sight and sound.
And there, over there, two Robbins pick at a patch of
grass they have found, while the Sparrows tweet their merry song
returning the moment to its perch.