yesterday i heard certain birds, my mind responding spring. it seems a long time between springs. the meaning of seasons has been changed. something irrevocable about each day. the word of the day is alternate—to happen or exist one after the other repeatedly. we know in our bones our heart's palpitations. the seasons are unstable. we make them so. yesterday i slipped into an alternate reality, and it was impossible to distinguish, though the thought was unfamiliar, though i knew. i knew this i said, though i didn't know what i knew.

my mind's still wintering, anticipating renewal, this time feels like looking back, yet with the same old yearning for spring.