A Final Moment (or two) of Doubt

The if not now when

That I hear now and again

Does that count

As being in

The present moment

I wonder

The same way

I hear the same bird

Singing

Over and over

I get carried away

All too easily

By the slightest

Suggestion of spring

With the bird

Still singing and

The sunlight strafing me

On a frigid March afternoon

Even the hollow sound

Of the neighborhood kids

Playing out of doors

And the car door slamming

Not so far away

Can't help but
Remind me of all

The warmer days

Soon to come