April 10, 2020
Photo by Jim Cornell
A poem by Hilde Oleson
One year since our paths have crossed
Since the last of the flurries, the sting of the frost
Surrendered to the warmth of the sun,
The fresh smell of earth, the birds that hum
I have this day.
What am I going to do with it?
It may seem long, or all too short,
But it is mine to use as I wish.
I have thrown days away,
But I have learned that they are precious.
Cannot be brought back, re-used or even repaired.
So I must hesitate
To find a way to make this day
One to remember.