spring ahead

Today the sunset hour shifts.

Snow remains at the edges but there’s open ground

For the flocks of robins passing through.

I see them settle in the oak tree out my window

Then drop down to forage on the lawn.

Walking beside wetlands tall grass

We hear the red wing blackbird’s song.

The great migration is under way again.

The trill notes begin the symphony.

My youngest daughter turns 21 today.

There’s a bright comet under the crescent moon

That won’t return for 100 million years

If at all.  Some things happen once.

As she pointed out to me yesterday

One third of her life has now passed

Since the separation split her world

Though she used softer words to say it.

Life goes on.  The years cycle past.

People adjust to change.  The person

Who is my daughter is doing so well.

Adversity brought out the best in her.

I listen to her dinner table talk

Confident in her abilities

Passionate about her chosen life path

So ready to make her way in the world.

Her legal age changed at midnight

So she went out to get a first drink in a club.

While partying with her girlfriends in the city

The clock skipped ahead to the rest of her life.

bronx beginning of spring

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mice with eggs

The image of mice with eggs

That woke you up from your dream:

So incongruous, so wrong

That it sticks in your memory

Like it sticks in my memory

And might stick in the memory

Of anyone who reads this:

Crossing over into consciousness.

There’s a part of your brain that’s awake

Thinking while watching your dream:

Mice can’t have eggs:

Mammals have placenta!

When I think about this image

I remember a childhood golden book story:

Bunny rabbits with colorful painted eggs:

This could be a dream of spring.

hudson river shades of gray

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