First Warm Day

Spring, 1935 by Kuzma Petrov-Vodin 

The sun coaxes yellow

from flat cocoons,

in early evening sinks slow

behind the exhale of passing cars.

I cradle you in crossed arms,

twilight sheets―

starlings nest in the loft,

your hair smells grassy, like tea―

I drink dandelion portions.

Love grows like children,

steady, unnoticed in winter―

then bursts at the seams.

Suddenly we've outgrown

all of last year's spring.

tk/April 2013 

Thank you R.A.D. Stainforth for this beautiful read. 

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