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![IMG_1436.jpeg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmSHhPPAb6qociXb81zW3aqF12STCPx6dvSzfYDxZkPkfg/IMG_1436.jpeg)
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After a slight thaw, temperatures dropped this past week, making March colder than January and February. On my morning trip to the garbage bins, the asphalt crunched under my feet; and on my way to work, I passed children playing in a parking lot before school, passing a stick around, all taking turns trying to break the surface of a frozen puddle—learning in action.
 
<center>**(1)**</center>
 
<center>**cracking the surface
children whack frozen puddles
before school**</center>
 
After learning that I might be unemployed in April, I felt something that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Behind the panic and worry, a sense of exhilaration, of freedom, of possibility. Immediately, I leapt to action and found a peculiar space in myself that longs to be filled.
 
<center>**(2)**</center>
 
<center>**in my heart
there is a room for something
what could it be for**</center>
 
With the freezing temperatures, came fickle weather—bursts of flurries followed by sun and blue skies soon replaced by heavy grey clouds and icy rain blown away by strong winds chased with hail. On Wednesday, for much of the day, the city was engulfed in low clouds, much like smog, or the smoke of a wild fire.
 
<center>**(3)**</center>
 
<center>**smothered
in a sea of grey
buildings wilt**</center>
 
A day off, in the middle of the week, to file my taxes, make inquiries about unemployment insurance, look into city-sponsored back-to-work programs, finish designing a website, and just take a break from the regular grind. In between errands going to various places, a breather—lunch in a riverside restaurant I often frequented years ago, before having kids.
 
<center>**(4)**</center>
 
<center>**lunch alone
the things we appreciate
later in life**</center>

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What is important? An age old question. With deadlines approaching, I found myself in a tangle of rapid messages, design adjustments, proofs, edits, and more messages. Before I knew it, the room was dim and the streetlights outside had come on.
 
<center>**(5)**</center>
 
<center>**while I was busy
doing important things
the sun set**</center>
 
The things you notice while stopped at a traffic light. Intersections that you generally rush through are suddenly on display. On this day, I was surprised to see a wooden cross hanging in the window of an empty house. How had I never seen it before?
 
<center>**(6)**</center>
 
<center>**a wooden cross
in the window of a house
where no one prays**</center>
 
Everywhere, signs of spring, and like a houseguest that can’t take a hint, signs of winter, too.
 
<center>**(7)**</center>
 
<center>**tulip shoots
wearing light snow caps
go back to bed**</center>
 
 
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![IMG_1435.jpeg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmRyzf8dZvQEazZuLUMFzd1X3BfPRXE31vj1Ep5aKVcyxi/IMG_1435.jpeg)
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<center>**As always, thank you for reading.**</center>
<center>*All poems and images are original. If you have any comments, feedback, or suggestions, please feel free to share them.*</center>