As the sun burns brighter
The rain falls quieter than it should
Birds sing fiercely into the air
Wind rushes at untamed speeds

Yet here I am,
Sitting longingly,
Waiting for your touch,
Realizing
I yearn for you
Like never before.

June

Hawthorn breaks a smile in the hedgerow,
whispers a truth
that, easily forgotten, delights again
and the indoor pain is lifted a little

The green is almost angry
demanding attention like a fat toddler
or peacocking buffoon
that somehow still wins hearts

I cried yesterday 
despite spring’s giving relief as backdrop 
anticipating a warmth 
that still evades my fingertips