Pollinators playing amongst the prairie flowers
The monarchs and swallowtails dance together
The bees are so busy
I hope they get to rest too
February raining
Oh, my heart is breaking
Reverberations compete to be heard over the resonant wind
and thrumming drops
Of a premature spring
Forsythia’s sunny disposition contrasts with the overcast
and the grief in my heart
For drastic swings between seasons:
A fortnight before, in the throws of summer
Overnight, plunged back into winter
Like the premature blooms, I too am confused
What should I do in this life?
I suppose there’s nothing else I can be sure of
but to love and face the sun