we are not

I count seasons looking

out the window

.

the rhythm, the cycle

turning planets in complex

dependencies I don’t

fully understand, but I know

.

I’m given, oh I’m given

safety of repetition worthy

of my awe, worthy of my

giving into the flow of

everything I cannot control —

saving grace for my

preoccupied human mind

.

Yet, this year through my window

I notice that the lilacs are blooming

a month too early

.

We are not

giving into

giving back

giving at all