Bewilderness

A bright triangle of sky gleams at the gray edge of cloud, between a neighbor’s sloping roof and hemlocks huddled, whispering tales.

I barely noticed chiclet-sized buds on our front maple’s branches. Today they are blossom-kisses. My heart is light like the spots between rain-spits outside our smudgy windows.

It’s difficult to determine what caused the overall heaviness against which I butted and strained lately. Did we in this house battle a virus’s lingering effects? Should we have taken pills to ease sadness at its first attack? Or have I overreacted to everything, a fat goose waddling around mucky shores when the air spoke Spring and Flight and Northern Fields?

All I know is, today my heart is lighter, like the brightening sky outside, beyond maple, hemlock and a ridge of familiar-faced hills.