This is a time of blossoms.
Each day, a petal grows to hide the thorns.
The wind-kicked clouds cry onto the pavement
where people walked in groups
chattering just a few weeks ago.
The clatter and rumble of man’s progress replaced
as the thunder ricochets into the emptiness of night,
followed at dawn by singing birds
among our edifices
from their nests embedded in the steel and concrete.
Mountains breathe the clearing air in a respite
from our industriousness.
We mourn what we have lost,
both the temporary and the dear.
Yet as we cover our mouths in silence,
our eyes are open to see a blossoming world
giving so much in our absence.