Tagglobal warming

I’ve always thought
that even among the turmoil of the frantic news cycle,
the swirling currents of hatred and despair,
the politics of division
and the policies that contribute in the currency of fear,
hat joy still exists among the sound of birds singing.
Outside my window.
  
I’ve always thought
that in the hardest of times,
while personal reckonings fraught with disappointment 
as frustration rises and falls inverse with sleep,
while traveling the most painful of paths
and screaming inside,
that my mind could be eased.
Watching helplessly while one you love most suffers
and steps up bravely to fight for a life so undeserving of pointless disease
I always looked to the clamor of birds
the burp of a frog
and the chatter of insects
Outside my window. 
  
But these sounds are dimmed.
The silence of my studio extends to the grass and trees.
The little fountain in the garden babbles stark against the silence
and the ticking of the clock is audible.
It shouldn’t be.
I call out and the world doesn’t answer.
The melody of life breaks through the melancholy of silence less often.
Where do I find comfort as nature too suffers?
As that melody - that constant presence is withdrawn 
my soul loses its moorings.
As life’s abundance shrinks under the hot sun. 
I listen in vain for that communion so silently missing.
Outside my window.
  
I’ve always thought 
that it was never too late.
Yet my instincts sound the alarm that time has become slippery
rendering quick change futile.
Even so it is time for caring and expression,
birdseed, flowers, water, art. 
With uncertain success I will try to extend my care beyond the constricted borders 
of home and studio.
To nurture what is fading and bring back in however a tiny form
what the world needs… 
and I so long for.
The renewed saturation of life and birdsong
Outside my window.