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.