Cocoon

Coming out of winter

slowly

skin shy of sunlight

We shed our

inwardness

and remember neighbors.

We slough off

the musty husk

of our houses

And stand in

the thin sunlight

of late March.

We are vulnerable

to the vagaries

of this uncertain season

And question

our new commitment

to miracles.

Movement

The great scab of winter sloughed off

leaving me lily-skinned and surprised

By the abundance of green space growing

and people flowing out of doorways

Into streets and walks that go anywhere

to anything.

In spring

it’s movement that matters.

Unseen dimensions squeeze mysteries out of the corner of my mind

Until possibilities grow like mushrooms

in a dark basement and

I’m adrift in a sea of the unknown.

Then my cat walks into the room scattering speculative thoughts.

Together we watch a chipmunk sitting casually on the deck

Washing his face before diving into birdseed for a snack.

I stitch the domestic scene into myself and for now it is enough.

The daffodil

tranquil in its simple beauty

Stains the air

with such a sure yellow

It’s slender neck

rises from the water without question

Innocent of symbols

and explanations.