snow on the first day of Spring

It’s the first day of Spring.

I press my nose against the cold glass of the door that leads out into the balcony and stare out into the snow- it’s been an hour or so since it started falling and already tree branches support the weight of Winter as rooftops dress themselves in white.

None of life is the way it should be right now.

I wonder for how much longer will I have to stand here, gazing upon the outside world with a foreign sense of hope that arrived suddenly from I don’t know where. I wonder for how much longer I’ll try and hold on to old ways of living and the need to produce something beautiful and worthwhile out of the silence that envelops the entire planet right now.

Is it Winter or is it Spring?

Sometimes life is just as uncertain as the weather.

quarantine mornings

that first moment in the morning when consciousness rises

and fingertips drum themselves awake

and the world is still quiet

except for the bird calls coming from

somewhere out of view

it’s cold so you stay in bed,  warm under the covers

perhaps with just a limb or two exposed for optimal comfort

time becomes irrelevant

when there’s nowhere to go and no one to be

so stay put and soak

in all of the bliss.