A soggy week that welcomed May in a much needed burst of sunshine.
A week of venturing out with protective masks in place.
A week of celebrating a birthday in a car train
with tooting horns replacing celebratory toasts and candles on cake.
A week of viewing the birth of buds and mourning the death of a tree.
A widening crack in its structure necessitating its removal.
And a week of jingle shells collected on an empty beach.
The sound they made in my pocket as I walked sang a song of summer.
A simple tune of hope that refuses to fade away.