I look for what is framed
in the constancy of rain –
the trees down by the river,
the box that shelters us

We may trade it in
for a surfeit of sleep,
a slacking off of work
(on cue from the sun)

We have music
in lieu of warmth,
warmth in lieu of light.
Robins and deer and turkeys
have what they need
in the wet expanse
of the wide outside.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 30, 2020