Sunlight sweeps across our yard in a glistening arc.
Adolescent trees sway rhythmically in a
Wind so tamed from the wrath I feared in
March that I smile with relief at the trees’ gentle dance.
But wait; there’s more:
The goldfinches visit en masse,
Their feathers startlingly brighter, richer—
Another paean to the lengthening stretch of sunlight…
Or a visual call to their duller mates in behalf of the next generation.
Treasure upon treasure, the daffodils beyond the feeder
Seem to hold their places day after day,
Still upright, intact, though weeks have passed
Since they burst into bloom.
Is it my imagination, playing with time
After the isolation enforced by Covid and oddly enjoyed?
This view is such a small slice of wonder in a trembling world—
I devour it, returning again and again.
My heart heavy with news, I find unalloyed joy
in more golden goldfinches and more