The only thing I know about
that is starting today is spring,
this late March event measured
in calendar numbers, even though
every year has one.
I will take notice when the first
of anything is starting, especially
if it is from nature,
rather than from the mouths
or words of people just wanting
to start something.
When the start of something begins,
I don’t easily take notice.
I’m always thinking things
will change or end,
so why the fascination
with the transitory?
I know one thing I didn’t start.
It started working inside
of me when I hardly took notice.
All the fascination I might
have about the beginning of my end
has already started.
When I’m gone
love will still be around,
and others will still be starting