I Remember When We Came Here

I remember when we came here
it was the morning of a spring.
Then there were both snow
and the promise of new flowers
in the scent of damp earth warmed
by an optimistic sun.

They took the birdbath with them,
as I might have known,
and the strawberries forecast
by the agent were not there.
But certain plants did grow
that first time summer came
to see us in our yard,
and every step across the grass
was light with opportunity.

In this opposing season when
the dark is always near,
each patch uncovered by the sun
is radiant with yearning,
and these heady exhalations
quicken welcome memory:
Look, how where the dawn you found
is where you soon may be.

January 21 2010