To This May

They know so much more now about

the heart we are told but the world

still seems to come one at a time

one day one year one season and here

it is spring once more with its birds

nesting in the holes in the walls

its morning finding the first time

its light pretending not to move

always beginning as it goes 

-W. S. Merwin

The weather is almost cruelly lovely today. It's drizzling, ever so lightly, and there's a delicious light wind blowing. I went out into the garden earlier in the morning with my newspaper and the dog. I'd planned on reading the paper, but I mostly just used it to swat the dog as I chased him around the lawn. Panda ran before me in huge panting circles, pausing only to drink from the outdoor tap. He loves this weather.

After we came indoors he spent a long time sitting before the French windows looking outside at the drizzle. His paws kept slipping on the tiled floor till he gave up and lay down. Now he's lying on his back, his paws in the air, mouth open, eyes buttoned shut. I've never seen anyone look more content.

Weather like this makes me very restless. I want to grab Panda, bury my nose in his fur, and dance him around the room. I want to run outdoors and go where the day takes me. I want to look at trees and marvel at the shades of green the raindrops bring out. I want the raindrops to catch in my hair, turning each strand silvery. I want to bake loaves of bread and smell the mixing scents of yeast and rain. 

Instead, I sit here under a fluorescent light and read about the Forty Second Amendment to the Constitution.