post storm light            

sitting in my parked car next to the cemetery taking in the post-storm light
noticing

that I already have a watch tan

that it smells like may, if may smells like flowers

that if I look closely at the trees, they are all in fact swaying, some more aggressively than others

that the colors of the trees are as different from each other now as they will be in october,

and that I noticed that same thing last spring.

enough room to breath

when we free the garlic from the too-dense matt of winter mulch so it has enough room to breathe
spring air and extend its fingers and toes, and so do I now, both of us me and garlic sticking out our noses just a little bit farther to smell
spring

walking home sloshing through puddles in dark green boots, seeing shades of light green dark green middle green poking out from all of the corners of the street and sidewalk and a pink child’s sunhat laying in the middle of the road
getting rained on.

the pink halo that I see from far away around a tree, and come to find is actually hundreds, thousands? of red flower buds blooming
on the maple