Spring of Delight and Despair

Sitting in the warm afternoon sun the perfume of quince blossoms fills the air and the humming honey bees provide the soundtrack.

These last few weeks have been slow moving, an unfolding, an opening, a revelation of life in rebirth. As the Dogwood petals unfurl, the Azaleas pop from tight little green buds to flowers of every pastel with sexy stamens and pistols waving seductively in the breezes.

While on the computer screen the daily toll of infections and deaths due COVID 19 roll up like an odometer counting every passing life.

Each morning sipping my coffee looking out over the backyard seeing the Maple and Redbud then the Oaks get the tiniest haze of green, then points of various greens in new shades of spring, and finally the true shape of each leaf in their spring finest.

Daily I listen to the talking heads sitting in studios at a distance or reporting from home, some with no pants on, pointing out the absurdities of capitalism in its vain glorious attempt to make money off the sick and dying. All the while each of us is wondering if our democracy, our republic is dying too.

Then once a week a trip out to get some hardware, some groceries, a pass through a bank drive through wiping the keypads with sanitary wipes and wondering if the man who loaded the cash into the machine coughed or…