s applauds my bike-riding to the garage, to pick up my car
after he has spent the afternoon
inspecting the new
coming from the area under the trunk that I know to be the location of
now he shouts to me as I pull into the garage on my bike, so good to see people biking! he shouts because of his old ears
I shout back yes!
I say thatespecially this time of year its extra special to bike because I get to experience all of the spring smells
never thought of that he says loudly
I am thinking of the way here:
and the apple
and the ornamental cherry
and the magnolia
and the indian restaurant
and the pinks
and the reds,
and the recent rain on pavement
and someone grilling in their backyard
and then that moment of old garbage
on the corner of Hawley and route 9
when the fourth grade girls all swarm in to hug me goodbye just as their teachers are shepherding them onto the bus home after lunch and
one of the girls who had been holding my hand the entire walk from the dining hall says she will never let go, but then she does, and they wave from the bus steps and wave from their bus seats and the engines start and we wave back from the driveway
until the bus pulls out and the wheels turn on the gravel and round a corner, and the trees with their pale green leaves wash them out of sight.
listening to nd practice the ukulele from his room
and kw sneeze from her
nook under the stairs
and hs out by the fire pit putting out the
last of the embers after his grilled steak dinner,
and the rest of them upstairs muffled laughing and moving
chairs, while i sit
on the couch near the front door, writing these words.
the cloudy chill that feels like spring is
suspended in the half unfurled fiddleheads, and the unopened dandelions
and the one apple tree near the library with blossoms still clasped, hesitating to extend its petals to the world.