End of a Season

I wanted this to be special.
I want to say, “Please, wait, go slow —
savor the breath in this “Yes”, full
of all the words there weren’t time for.
Between winter and spring a door
swings open, laughing at them both.
New leaves flirt with raindrops, bend low,
bow, and bounce back up, full of mirth.
Is it the same for you? Maybe
this is the time to shift away
from studied measures, wait to see
what happens next. What do you say?
There are times for scripts and schedules,
times when they are only for fools.

The Time of Misunderstanding

Now begins the time of misunderstanding.
Daffodils bud, insert green leaves into a space
full of sudden yellowing. We plan for nothing.
We hope for everything. We hush. Face orbits face,
then turns away, full of silence and full of grace.
Questions grow like weeds, awkward, tough as anyone,
tangled up with ‘maybe’, swaying like Queen Anne’s Lace
for a moment, then sprawling greedy in the sun
and waiting wounded for the rain. It has begun.
The clouds gather, full of thunder, then full of peace.
What will break first — the sound? or the silence? It’s done.
It’s done. Let’s unknit all our expectations, cease
the staring contest, allow hands to cup like spoons,
unlock words like cracking ice under summer moons.