Perhaps it is the jasmine
The lightening flash of long lean rabbit in the garden where the labyrinth winds for prayer
Or maybe it’s the baring of our flesh
Release of layers, fleece and sweater, flannels,
Covering for a dark and weary soul.

Perhaps it is the dip of toes and body in the sea
Or maybe it’s the sharp knife blade
Cutting deep into the red of berries ripe and ready
Sweet dripping over beds of salad greens.

Perhaps it is your skin turned tan, brown as a berry, momma used to say,
Touched by the sun of  longer days
Or maybe it’s just the way we breathe, finally and fully,
Filling lungs full of just mowed grass, sweet green air.

And perhaps it’s on the way out,
When really she just arrived.
Teasing us with what is fragile
Precious worth a long deep sip, of what she carries  in on beams of moon.

I pick the purple hydranga, her mix of lavenders and greens,
Place it in the window where the light illuminates her glory.
And think

Perhaps this Spring will be my favorite one of all, the best of fifty three.

And secrets are for keeping, but some
Should also be shared.

There was something in this one
That  wrapped me in her fingers, held me tight and close
Before the sweet release toward Summer
Captured all of my senses, held them gently hostage
Then, kissed me softly on my cheek before the sad goodbye.

The hand of Spring has held me.

Perhaps, that is all I know.


Joining Tweetspeak Poetry for Wordcandy. Photo Credit: Tina Howard

And Sandra Heska King for Still Saturday