The sun is shining soft yellow and white
A tuft of Crayola’s Spring Frost peeking here and there
Weatherman predicts a warm 46 degrees
Songbirds’ chirps pierce through the air
But yet wintry snow sits on the ground.
It is a false spring day
the kind that tricks the eyes and heart
but one look up at the cerulean sky brings
a surge in the electro-cardiogram
with a lightning flash of epiphany.
Step out the door, everyone’s rushin’ past
eyes depressed sixty degrees from the horizontal
Hurry to the next box in the column under Tuesday
only to sit there in blank-faced stupor or
Fight in a competitive preening
to display her feathers to the room
Beauty and Success and everything desirable in life
are determined by compare and contrast
A constant struggle to fit in but stand out
To be good at something is to be better than someone else.
But stand there for a moment or two
New England is in its glorious bloom
let the cool breeze tickle under the overcoat
See how the light makes the white glitter
drop the books and stress and notebooks and worries
let the mind wander, let the face go slack
take a breath and a proper look
at Mother Nature’s personal handiwork.
And ponder.
First we are born,
one of three hundred sixty five thousand made just that day,
Eat and sleep and vegetate as long as we can
Regurgitate what others have said, Repeat what others have written
for two too long decades
Live to Work, work to Live, find some way to make some green,
whistle, whistle, toot toot
until life is but a dream.

I shiver down to my bean boot-clad toes
to picture the amusement dancing in the eyes
of a god behind glass watching
the antics of these microscopic mites
who think their troubles and angst are somehow unique.
How silly our flair for melodrama and ego must seem
I close my eyes but not the lids
Cry out but don’t move the lips
the bizarre insignificance of my Self pains me to the core.
If every beautiful thought’s been already sung
Someone somewhere has been here, done this
I guess life’s only waiting to try it myself
So on the back of my arm I scribble a promise to
Crank up the volume, take off the headphones, look up
Allow the maximum intensity smack me in the nose
Revel in the small miracles, like a beautiful day in the dead of winter
Pursue what fires up the heat inside the chest
Experience a stomach sore from laughter and sobs that shake the shoulders
Dare to fall in love with Charlie and Sherlock and the Eleventh Doctor
Indulge in the fine things that breaks routine
Effectuate the same tremulous vitality in another in need
Meander for just a moment and breathe.