Spring is a rush-hour subway train
and I’m standing in it like a perched hawk hunting
for an empty seat for a square foot of personal space
or half an hour of perfect solitude.
Reminds me of nature documentaries: of eight-foot tall grass
of monkeys splashing playfully in a spring flood
of elephants drinking and feasting filling
the emptiness of the winter drought
in their wrinkled grey bellies.
I’m filling up too, on shared pitchers of beer
on conversation on scribbles in calendar squares
and I too am revisiting redefining winter.
Bloated, I’m idealizing hibernation
and forgetting the echo
of its emptiness.
Photo by Hanay
Would you rather spend the next six months in complete solitude or surrounded by other people (it can be people you like) to the point where the only time you spent alone was bathroom breaks?