My big children did mischief.
I sent them to their room and now they must think hard about what they have done.
My face is scarred, I’m bleeding, I’m sick, I’m exhausted.
I can barely stand on my feet.
I need a break.
I have to shake this grime off my shoulders.
March is here, and trees are blossomed.
Isn’t it early for tree blooms?
Shouldn’t my beloved trees blossom in April?
Isn’t April the month of the flowers each year?
So why March this year?
Oh but I know why.
My mischievous children are locked in the house, and now the trees have more space to grow.
And my small children, timidly, get out of the woods and wander on the empty streets in the big city.
Look at that puma strutting down the Fifth Avenue, so fearless now.
And I can breathe.
Finally, after decades, I breathe.
My tallest mountains can show their face again.
How clearly I can see now.
How refreshed I feel now.
I needed this break.
Thank you Corona for the break.
