And now I seek comfort
in the song of a bird, the bloom of a rose,
the smell of sidewalk after a hot rain.
What in the moment offers relief?
I still breathe, however reluctantly,
in a world which can’t be trusted.
In. Out. In. Out. Seeking comfort
in what remains: The song of a small bird,
the bloom of a red rose, the fresh smell
of sidewalk after a hot rain.