Peace has come onto me. It seems seven years of major depression has lifted. Although I should be contemplating suicide right now, the thought hasn’t crossed my mind. I thirst for life in these times of economic ruin. Smiles cross my face out of nowhere for no apparent reason– involuntary stretches of the lips at the thought of little things.
Bulbs in city gardens erupt from dark winter soil like the joy in me. Early varieties of forsythia shine with the fragrance of morning sun. To the left and to the right, they grow and glow like q-tips pulled from waxy ears.
As birds sing secret songs that only I remember, my shadow struts a step ahead along uneven sidewalks that are forged as mountains by thick roots of maple trees.
Dancing in morning rays upon unpruned bushes, my shadow slaps me five in the dew of dawn.