Perhaps it's the weather

I am once again restless.
Often I find myself
staring out the window,
fixed on the hosta breaking through damp earth.
I welcome them like long lost friends.
How long has it been since I last looked at you?
Touched you?
Realized your beauty and strength?
You tolerate winter much better
than I do these days
and wait patiently until
it is your season

I push the envelope
realize with each passing year
that time is running short
regret the years I wasted
and the days that passed
without me noticing
even the slightest beauty
or grace.
I watch the robins
frantically gathering
twigs, straw, old string
already planning
to mate and go forward
I snip bits of colored yarn
and place it in my suet feeder
for them to gather
my contribution to spring
and new life
new love

Over a cup of coffee
a friend asks
"How many more springs
do you suppose we have?"
Sigh.
Like Emily Dickinson
I dwell in the possibilities
of what each arriving spring
may bring into my life
and what I leave behind
I refuse to focus on the end
before I have exhausted today.

Early Morning Walk

This morning I went for an early morning walk,

The air cool with thick misty fog

As dawn broke I desperately searched

For early signs of spring

To signal the end of winter

The air smelled of damp earth

But what I really craved

Was even the faintest scent

Of you

Wee Hours Realization

Photo by Deannster on Flickr

Wee Hours Realization

We lie together naked

Under the new April moon

Spooning the way

True lovers do

His strong arms wrap around me

His cologne lingers on his skin

I breathe him in

Deep inside of me

And into my heart

I wondered if he knew

I was falling deeper in love with him

Safe within his arms

Peacefully drifting in time

I have no use for the morning sun