The First Day of March

Sitting in the armchair, half-asleep, I hear a lone bird singing on the first dawn of March. Wondering what it’s chirping about, it suddenly stops, as if hushed by its mother, prompting me to drift back into dreamland.

I am sitting in the armchair in our bedroom. My eyes were closed and I was half asleep. Suddenly, through the tightly shut windows and the drawn curtains of this, the first dawn in the first day of March, I hear a lone bird tweeting away. With my eyes still closed, I listen. The ground is still lightly covered with snow. It is cold. The skies are still dark. The world is still asleep. What is that silly little bird singing about? As I think that, the bird stops singing. I imagine its mother saying, “Hush! It is not morning yet. Go back to sleep.”

With that, I too drift back into back into dreamland. When I wake up the next time, the skies are beginning to lighten. I feel chilled. I groan as I rise from the armchair and get back into bed…