No not at all.
I am not inconvenienced,
Unlike the birds,
Migrant guests who arrived on time
Only to find their rooms not ready.
And it appears that they will make do,
And survive within their world of deeper wisdom.
Such trusting souls.
Spring is such a relative season
A time of arrivals and departures,
The heat of the sun struggles with the cold
Of darker days,
The story of creation ongoing,
As the earth wobbles its winding way
Leaving us with weather filled with a high degree
Of in-betweenness.
Spring looks both backward and forward
I see that now.
So on this morning
And at this moment
I will not struggle in the in-between,
Rather I will choose to be mindful of its wonder
This heat and cold
These flakes and feathers
and be grateful for such gifts.
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