Hopeful Moments

Yesterday we attended the funeral of another high school friend, where among the living we heard the protest that of late we seemed to meet less at weddings and more at funerals. The friend was a rare spirit in life, and with the muted taps of his Marine Corps honor guard, a bald eagle flew away down the valley, startling the nesting crows into alarms as it flew.

This morning we are greeted by signs of life everywhere. Bluebirds are scouting the nesting boxes, chirping to each other as they flutter their wings and peer into the openings. Under the warming sun the granular snow about the house thins and recedes from south foundation gardens, where inspection reveals a few snow drops and these crocus flowering among the green tips of daffodil feeling the air for their moment to rise and shine.

Sunday night before bed we will set our clocks ahead one hour, in the annual effort to shift our remaining time to our own choosing, despite inexorable funerals and springtime flowers, which arrive in their own seasons.