I look out my window to the two Maple trees changing colours sitting in my usual place performing daily rituals: morning pages of streams of consciousness reading of psalms and poetry meditation with singing bowl and timer this is the morning schedule before going out for a distanced walk for groceries with a mask veiling the unremote fear of random reality. Like Hardy’s Darkling Thrush in the dead of winter -for so is this pandemic- “of some blessed Hope whereof he knew And I was unaware.” so came the answer to the question during class: “what is the difference between pantheism and de Chardin?” One word seemed to say it all, for he repeated it over and over. It was spring when I then sat by this window and everyday the buds grew orienting themselves towards a sun’s rays harmonizing with them - and both together - producing a symphony called Resurrection.