The Growing Season, Part III

III.

You spent years figuring out 

that Spring returns each year,

that the rain comes with it 

& the tulips

& the dew. 

Each time they returned,

you seemed surprised, 

as if you might have never

seen them again,

like a dog returning 

to its owner.

It was the long winter

that felt like the end.

Short days swept by 

into thick darkness.

Morning was brief and bright:

new mercies quickly passing. 

I thought it was the grey;

you thought it was the Spring.

We sat inside our separate boxes,

staring out the windows:

heavy winter, heavy rain.

But the tulips brought the 

light back, & the Springtime

brought the dawn,

& the source of every sadness

was your noncommittal gaze

at the busy streets below us.