Never Again

"I tasted life." Emily Dickinson

(art by John Leslie Breck)

This morning, I went out into the garden. Along with the usual sounds of the Cardinal, the Robin and the Wren, I hear an unfamiliar one- that of a Yellow-rumped Warbler. A Brown Thrasher is at my feeder.

I move through the cool morning air. Overhead are clouds and swallows. The grape hyacinths are in bloom as are the Eastern Redbud Trees, the Summer Snowflakes, and the Dogwoods.

A squirrel races along the fence.

I keep hearing the insistent chirp of the Cardinal.

There are the blooms of the yellow jessamine and golden-bells.

No other morning will be this morning.

None of this will be repeated. Not in this way. The shifting of the morning light as the clouds pass before the sun.