When I wake Up Every Morning

A poem

I am forgetting what it is like to sit in a shade of a tree I am forgetting what it is like to get lost in the colors of nature One thing I remember is I feel a different kind of peace that calms my chaotic head The warmth of the morning sun is only a luxury Yet I could hear the chirping of the birds every day, carrying a message that the sun is up and it’s a very good morning I get up and pull the curtains Trying to grasp what is visible from the glass of a ground floor apartment of the 16-floor building Big trees illuminated by the sunshine, few of them have blossomed yellow flowers The only ones that remind me that it is spring, my favorite time of the year, a little more than it is for the rest of others For some reasons, I wish that this spring too carries a deeper meaning Sometimes, the spring arrives in disguise, as it once happened with me, in the mask of a cold weather This time I wish not just for me, but all living beings So that it continues to be the beautiful time of the year the world has ever seen

The continual chirping brings me back to my physical state. I look for their origin, some days I could trace the birds some days I couldn’t There’s a whisper that comes out of nowhere and lingers in the air for a moment, “I wish I were them” At least for this season. I think I envy them I take a deep sigh, ready to kick start a fresh new day of self-quarantine It has become a favorite part of my day Not because it makes me happy Somehow I am learning to enjoy everything that makes me feel something in a rather deadly routine, and this part of the day kindles in me a fount of feelings.