Anticipation

It’s the cold that hits first
42 degrees is far from the 82 degrees
We left this morning in San Juan
And my body feels its jolt as we
Enter the plane’s jetway in Baltimore

The barrenness of the
Winter landscape hits next
As we cruise through interstate traffic
On our way home

Then, arriving home,					
The usually much admired 
Horizon visible from
Our apartment seems stark 
Framed as it is 
By curtain-less windows
With raised slatted blinds

Our view now seems 
A Zen-scape of plainness
Offering only a gray sky and
Naked trees as backdrop
Our apartment itself, 
Too sparsely decorated, even drab.
I feel bereft

Where is the color?
The warmth?
The life-giving nature of the Tropics?
The blues of the ocean?
The greens of the trees?
The grace of the swaying Royal Palms in the breeze?
 
The next morning however
As I sat with my beloved cup of coffee
In my comfy glider chair,
I realized I have something here 
I don’t experience in the Tropics:

Anticipation of Spring:
The reawakening of Life
That faithfully erupts 
Each orbit of the Earth
Around the Sun. I am calmed

I wonder too how I
Will feel when
All there is to anticipate
Is the end of anticipation
When only death awaits my physical body

I hope to recall even then
The eternal reawakening of 
“What Is” – 
So magnificently exemplified
By Mother Nature’s offerings.


Andrea DiLorenzo
February 23, 2025