There are new blossoms on the trees.
I step outside, emerging from a chill
that had settled in my body, in my lungs.
Ahead of me is grocery shopping,
coffee, sitting on a bench people-watching.
Behind me: a season of mourning.
Its slow dissipation an ambulence
whose warning screams have faded back
into the humming of life.
I step outside, emerging from a chill
that had settled in my body, in my lungs.
Ahead of me is grocery shopping,
coffee, sitting on a bench people-watching.
Behind me: a season of mourning.
Its slow dissipation an ambulence
whose warning screams have faded back
into the humming of life.
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