The Cercis awaken,
The World is reflected in glass.
I run my fingers through the bodies of the dead.
A million billion lives lived,
cats, butterflies, poison ivy, sons, daughters, beloveds, a mushroom.
Dead now, metamorphed into soil feeding
The Cercis awaken
from a short sleep to swell with pink,
clouds scud by on the blue of the sky.
This moment I clearly see, before I morph
into an older me.
But not yet. Not until I behold
clouds scudding on glass, and a galaxy
of lives in my hands.