Meals that fill the house

as if announcing their arrival

A scent and comfort, potent, ontollogical.

While I wait, I wait;

A poem’s first reading

before April may prove its intents

A light that is fleeting

and a sparrow “cheet-cheeting”

crows and mocking birds toss out their calls

and cardinals are bleeting

Still the sauce simmers

While tasks to be done are resigned

To tomorrow, and sent with a sigh

Still the sauce simmers

And the air still feels lighter

While this comfort compresses

And still the sauce simmers