The Unwinding

Those blue skies lie this morning

 but I am thankful for them nonetheless. 

The north wind tells a truer tale 

& the branches of the tree outside my bedroom window 

bend to its time-worn words. 

In the warming soil intervals of green push through.

I live so lightly in my mild discomfort,

toiling only to stitch waking hours together

while the world falls apart.

My mother forgets what day it is

& I gently absolve both of us

by reminding her this is how

we live now, our stopping cues

reduced to light & dark & breath.