Perched in my crow’s-nest overlooking a placid sea of shadows, I can see six tranquil neighboring back yards. All is quiet as owners pull back shades for houseplants to drink in morning sun.
The snow is melting after several days of subfreezing temperatures. Patches of earth and leaves peeking from under white blankets. Every plant awaits breaking warmer weather.
There is quiet between whirring vehicles passing on the avenue. There is retreat here. A quiet corner in the middle of the city. Birds pick at remaining seeds as neighbor cats stalk and play in the sunlight. All absorbing the early warmth of encroaching spring.
Seasons continue to ebb and flow like an unpredictable tide leaving traces of ; moisture for thirsty roots, still unsatisfied with the skies annual offering. Is there more to come? Is this all there is?
What of the coming parch of summer winds? What of searing sun, returning gift to giver?
Answers come in time. For now, sun streaks shadows through vanishing snow.