The female body awakens, and rises. A quiet joy exists, as does a hopeful world.
A cool breeze outside the kitchen window is freckled with bird song.
If only this miracle of sunshine could wipe away the virus, and free this cocooned humanity.
It is my husband’s birthday. As if not a care existed, I whip up his favorite: Buckwheat Pancakes.
As he pours his syrup atop the steaming crispy edged cakes (the way he likes them)
I watch him in secret gratitude.
The cocoon has within it a facile Butterfly.
Within a Quarantine, we witness beautiful little movements of living:
the gift of another day.