at some point, overnight, the trees were blooming, grass was leaping up, another generation of birds built their nest in the same spot underneath the deck. There was nothing there two weeks ago. Not a string, and now another nest. Same as it ever was.
And now that things are blooming and the trails will be full of bikers and the park full of hikers I think of you yet again. I know that before I realize it, the trees will be bare again, the birds will be absent again, like you. The silence will be painful, again. And if there are other voices, they will not carry the same lightness. But for now I'll enjoy the birds and the trees, and the hikes and the rides.
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