The Sweet Days of March

As I gaze out my window, a butterfly dances in the copper sprinkler and the new green leaves shimmer like golden fingers on all of the trees. The mornings are cold, but the days are filled with filtered sunshine and birdsong. 

The plum tree in our backyard has been hanging on for a few years now. Half eaten by termites, it only blooms on the east side. But just now, as I type, a bird is bathing on the dead branches facing the setting sun. Lanterns and lace hang from it's limbs. I can't bear to think of it gone. Last summer we had nine or ten really perfect plums. I will take that. I will call that alive. I will nurture and light that plum tree until the last plum blossoms and swells with sweet pink juice. Because if we create one sweet thing in this life, we are alive. Regardless of our weight, or wrinkles or gray hair or bug eaten limbs, we are alive and have the opportunity to bloom fragile white blossoms and swollen pink fruit...