Awaiting events
scheduled into tomorrow’s calendar,
excitement serves as the energy source
stirring the restless butterflies
at the base of my stomach.

There’s a gentle breeze rustling the trees
on this bright Monday morning,
dropping dried-out pine cones to the ground
and stirring up dust in the streets.
On the jostling branches
I can see a few birds, small,
tightly clasping the wood
and chirping, singing, still,
songs of joy.
I can see them, I can hear them,
their assurance of spring’s arrival.

An opportunity to see,
what we have been told is true
by numerical values,
in a different way,
with our own eyes.