What Happened After the Storm

I watched a cardinal briskly shake water from the brook off its red plumage. A hyacinth Admired its petioles and petals, reflected in the displaced droplets of the brook in the furrow, And I feel my body freeze like soil blanketed under winter’s snowy sheets. Now, dawn and dusk are the same frozen gray. We sleep by day to stay warm in broken cities where memories thrive in fragmented dreams of those beautiful scenes the night doesn’t allow us To see.