Renaissance
Glancing at the frail frames of trees
I realize the aching in their skeletons
as we both come to the stunning conclusion
that winter has snuck up on us.
You can see in my hips,
these new curves which leave me
feeling insecure and unfamiliar,
sometime between the summer
and the fall i have been reborn
as a real woman now.
Within me, a passion has been restored.
The anxious waiting for any sign of life
somewhere I am not,
far from all these empty trees;
and life comes with new alertness beneath my feet
as though I learned a lesson
from the subtlety of fall:
Pressed between yr arms
a blanket of leaves as my only keeper
I close my eyes and pray for regeneration,
pray the way walnut, oak, and maple have taught me
Sic transit gloria, yet spring renews.
Please, allow us to write the sing-song poetry of our youth
as we grow under this harsh blanket of frozen earth,
let us forget those summers which kept us so warm
when we were young, but not quite innocent,
and find a breaking of these cold months
between late night movies, hot cocoa runs,
and those silent sighs we make,
relieved to be acquainted after the interim
of lonely.