every white blossom

bringing out the blue

in her eyes

dandelions

and violets

crashing the party

rain and more rain —

somewhere underneath it all

a seed is making plans

curtain call —

already fallen blossoms 

crowding the curb

ready for shadows —

the moon sneaks all the way

past the tallest tree

petals plastered

to every damp surface —

I think about you

the gaze of a fox

piercing and pinning me

to the curve of this world

I make myself

a cave of down-hanging willow —

will she come find me?

an old cedar tree

center-split by the storm —

we can’t stop looking

printing your name

and then adding mine —

hospital forms

spring morning —

the breeze carries with it

a lamb’s first cry

big spoon, little spoon —

we fall soundly asleep

without meaning to

finally some spring leaves —

I hear the sparrow

before I see it

seeds announcing

their safe landing spots —

our unplanned flowers

all the way home

we cast spells by naming blossoms —

pear, forsythia...

daffodils

open to the freezing rain —

my day of regrets

afternoon walk —

even the hint of a bud

stops us in our tracks

walking outside

with no thought of a coat —

strangers trade smiles

children’s upturned faces

chatting on the walk to school —

blossoms everywhere

faith in spring —
our open windows
inviting birdsong

neighborhood creek —

even my best dams

were temporary

finally

a morning

without frost

busy sparrows

jumping from branch to branch

seeking a warm spot

pussywillow —

I can’t keep from touching

her new spring haircut

unexpected loss —

a crow on the high, dead branch

looking the wrong way

(for KS, in memoriam)

when the sun comes out

and all we can think of

is each other

on the road again —

the air, the sky, shot through with

unfamiliar songs

empty spaces

where the buds should be —

our storm-broken trees

running a bath

as the temperature falls —

last snow before spring

briefly slowed

by the bowl of my hands —

spring rainwater