telling it again

that story about the wind —

daffodils

rain at the window —

tomorrow the creek will sing

a new raga

(for Shravya)

ink-black tadpoles —

never any less

miraculous

mapping

the storm in my head

by counting the miles

spirea waiting

to jump in and double-dutch

with forsythia

bike wheels

with cards in the spokes —

here comes spring!

recycling day –
the wind pushes last year's leaves
into the street

before the big test

she patiently teaches me

how to skip stones

my father coming home

“Any good mail today?”

teaching me hope

(Written as my parents drove home from FL to upstate NY.)