Flowers have appeared on verges as I try and exercise for more than twenty minutes without cramping up. I would have missed this detail before life narrowed into what was within reach.
Spring explains, “It’s time to look ahead."
I still want to retreat. The trains are too busy, the shops packed.
“I’m scared, frankly, Spring,” I admit.
The flowers move in the breeze: understanding. I guess it can’t be easy emerging into the world when you’re as fragile as they.
“I’ll try,” I say, a little more at ease.