Photos from five years ago
I captioned them
"My yard is blooming!"
And it was
bursting
with pastel purple irises, cheerful snow *****, and cunning wisteria

Photos taken the second month
we lived on the island.

I love Baltimore, my city.
I don't want to move
but I miss this place
and the place before that.

And there are so many places
to see
to live.

Happening onto this set of photos
and my stomach twists--
to be there again
with the smell of *****
steaming at the little shop across the street
with the marsh grasses swaying
and the peepers starting their evening chants.
Is my neighbor still out there working on his truck
or selling tomatoes at that flimsy wooden table?

At 30-ish, I already find myself missing
about four different places and sets of people
How many places will I have to miss at 40--
at 80--if I should be so lucky?

Pieces of my heart and stomach
are scattered across this little patch of East Coast and Appalachia.

How many times can they be divided?
No, not divided.
They're multiplying.

First days of spring
How many poems have been written about you?
Could you count them on all your fingers and toes
finally free from wool socks
or on your highway medians’ flower buds
barely visible from the rolled-down windows of passing cars?

Let me add one more set of words--
images of a Saturday afternoon in April
cats snoring
pressed against sun-dappled window screens
and daffodils adorning
even the smallest patches of earth
between city streets and sidewalks

And most of all
that sublime knowledge
a proof of concept
that bulbs become blossoms
that winter layers will be shed.

The things I thought were dead and rotting
were only dormant for a season.
The chill of winter--which will come back--
fades for now, replaced by milder breezes.

The dull walk to my parked car
a trudge that seemed so long and dreary
is now a brief journey
dotted with colors and  
full of the splendor of living things.