I
open my eyes to the sounds of the city.
Yawning,
I unfurl my stiff fingers.
We
both are.
A
breeze brushes swiftly past us,
Probably
hurrying off to work, Starbucks in hand.
There
is something different about the air this morning.
A
small bird hops across the sidewalk;
It
has ordinary grey-brown feathers but its chest in a bold shade of vermillion –
a robin.
Somewhere
in the back of my mind, the gentle voice of a kindergarten teacher tells me
that a robin is the first sign of spring.
Just
the sight of it chases away the bleak memories of winter.
I
watch as the bird opens its wings and takes flight, carrying the heaviness of
my heart away into the sky.
My
smile fades when I notice that the small figure huddled beside me has, after a
long, harsh winter, stopped shivering.
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