How Winter Wanes (A Corrolary Tale)

It was just the turn of your head,

Like the fields where we ran as kids

Tall, through the rolling grass

Skipping, hollering, laughing

endless imaginings!

That was when Springtime never ended.


Now we start it off again, here,

like then. Your eyes, your hands

Immersed in the window’s view,

Across the fields, to where the hills rise up

Collecting it all into the little streams

Reflecting in the midday sun.


Humming, softly in the warmth of that day

When we opened doors for the first time.

And in came light and breeze and linens swaying,

Entwined in a caress that never stopped.


And just as you turn again,

The faint scent of you, lingering.

I never remembered, until now,

like the stream where the oak trees grow,

The tiny home over the hill,

We don’t have to know anything more.


Nobody told me it would be quite like this.


How was I to know all the questions,

You look away, I wonder,

All of that was answered,

A long time ago. Nothing more.

I didn’t have to.


As children, we could study the

Long swoop of a single flower petal,

Seeing the landscapes rise and fall.


And in the one moment,

Your sure glance weaving a simple thread

Of lush green garden into my heart.


It has been a long time, my love.


All those things happened, then.

Now we turn, move into the place

Where the light fades from an afternoon

Sitting in the still air of an early evening.


That was your hello.

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