The ticking of the clock
The howling of the wind
A leaf-less tree ready to bloom
Hoping this late March freeze
Will bloom into an early April spring
The room is quiet
Save for several whispers
Of those preoccupied with everything
Aside from their work
I sit here and think
Of how my day will pass
And hope for the best
Of situations to come
I'm unable to predict my future
So, I'll leave it all up to faith
As I sit here wondering and writing
About doing anything but work