This quickening of the heart in morning,
Glancing raindrops from the bird’s waking call,
Felled trees collapsed, branches outside lazing
Green and bud in my windows blur the fall.
The fall the tree had many years ago,
Or perhaps just days filled with too much time,
Ages passed, so few minutes to show
When one tangles it together in rhyme.
Death had come, and birth, life and love between,
Brought on the cusp of the remunerating spring.