as I sit and sip my coffee, and
butter my ontbijtkoek.
There’s still snow on the ground
and it’s mid-April.
No sign of tulips
or crocuses, only
patches of yellowed grass.
My wife joins me
in the silence of the house
for her quiet time--
books piled next to her,
tea hot and steeping.
My children sleep still
or are quietly reading.
This is a season change
the earth tilted 23.5 degrees
on its vertical axis,
northern hemisphere
tilted towards the sun
bathed in light.
I can only sit and wait--
describe the day,
break
it into pieces.
