He was born from spring rains
When new leaves unfurled
Heady sweet mimosa and willow
Filling the air with peaceful green
Lacing the ground in spinning shifting patterns
Scattered sunlight as drops dripped from trees
Knee deep in rivulets bubbling and rushing
To my back door.
He called me out to play

I ran with him hand in hand abandoning
The mundane four walled pristine
Plaster world I passed as real
Feeling cool fronds brush against my hungry cheek
Neck tilted
Back arched
Swallowing the droplets as they trickled from
The branches
Unmoved by the rushing water
The thunder
Spring rains turning to the deluge
Of a summer storm
Innocence swept away on the furious current

Now I dream in green
Fervent unseen passion
Masked by my lack of reaction
Yet the back door stays open
As spring rains drip from leaves
Rustled by a gentle breeze
Could it be that he...
Comes calling me to play

TL Boehm
072206