At a time

When our shared breath was threat and possible death 

When the streets emptied 

and nature crept where tires no longer tread 

When home became haven and prison 

When we sheltered our lungs

and the human world stood still

Then the blossoms still carried on 

In silken softness

and the gradual easing to leaves

The trees continued 

To convert our cloistered breath

To oxygen 

And the hidden sun

To syrup

When there are no comings or goings 

Only staying 

Staying to watch through fogged windows

Each stage

Of the trees awaking 

When there is nothing to do 

But count the blossoms 

and watch them fade

Aware

Of life’s unfolding

and 

That even your masked breath 

Is transmuted 

To life 

Even in silence 

We sing with the trees 

Even when our faces are hidden 

Nature boldly reveals itself 

One generous bud

At

A

Time