Homeward

In search of spring branches and breath

L-R: dogwood, don’t remember, blueberry stem, quince, dogwood. Photo: author’s own.

In viral funk,

congestion-puffed face still marred by the

faint impression of

a well-fitted n95,

(suitcase somehow unpacked,

but sleep mostly elusive)

I walked the perimeter of my yard

in bare feet

and cut April branches from the trees,

plunking them in vases lined up

by the

kitchen sink,

overcome with gratitude

for this bit of spring promise,

for the simple beauty of

brown stick bursting with swollen chartreuse

bud,

for the roadmap geography of a

blueberry stem,

for

the pink-blush pop art of the new

Kousa dogwood planted two springs ago

outside our back door, for the

elegant bend of an

apple branch, still months from

bearing fruit,

that have all

so kindly

offered to sustain me

this

week.

blueberry stem. photo, author’s own.

Gae is the author of several novels for readers of all ages, though shelved as tween and young adult. You can read more about her and her books at gaepolisner.com