Covid Spring
Peering beyond the kitchen glass,
A Robin’s song welcomes Spring,
From atop her feeder barely filled to half;
While below, a squirrel roots as she sings.
In the distance, foliage dresses green,
As heavied limbs sway in the air,
Their farewell wave to Winter breeze;
I watch in solemn numb fanfare.
Alas, Spring is here, but where was I,
Home bound—confined behind these walls,
Pushed out real soon by Summer's Sun;
Sequestered, I’m desperate not to miss it all.
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