I saw, from my bed, lying lively and awake by this time, a tree waving, singing a dance, green revolving exultations, Let’s wonder, she told. All right was my answer. Did you see the crepe myrtle playing by the magnolia join in the sway? Together their movements delighted. Was it always such or did I look up from digital numbness in the whole of one moment to make it happy that way? This morning, after that but before this, the pink blossomed sasanqua whirled round outside, bowed and twirled. evolving. Let’s love, she told. All right, was the answer. Promises made last winter about not dying and trying to remember and never forget the fortunes of spinning. She will arise, her pink bottomed robe and yellow feathers flinging, in our living this spring. Double bound scar and scritching, restrict our dance. Still I remember to arise also. All this because I saw her moving this morning while lying awake and alive from my bed as it snowed in the rain. Wet heavy droplets of water never marring the heaven sent charm of the flakes.