It is April 2nd and it is snowing.
I walk to the subway to go to work and try to turn the mess of things I feel into words, into calm before I walk back into the hurricane.
The snow dusts my hair and I am lucky,
Winter hasn’t quite left yet and I breathe best when it’s cold.
I wonder when change comes in this whirlwind of white.
Spring is waiting and I wait for it.
I wind my scarf around my neck.
The leaves blow into my arms as I walk to the subway.
It is cold again, and I am glad to feel each breath in my lungs.
I will let the trees remind me, it is time again to let go.
It’s like the world’s rolled backwards.
80 on an October Monday, light when I get off the G train on my way home.
The sun peeking through the clouds and the slight smell of saltwater and humidity I know so well as summer.
Girls in matching backpacks cross the road,
And four story buildings are starting to be home more than ever.
Its like August is here again, and I’m out of place in my sweater.
What a strange day.
The sun is out.
I drive as if I can roll back time.
It’s a beautiful day,
Like all of the ones that have been,
And next week the sun will shine again,
Over green valleys and hills.
It is strange that the end is so beautiful,
But I remember the first long drive down that road that leads home.
I tap the radio dial,
And the cattails are growing new stems on the side of the highway.
Life, in this place,
Has come again with the spring,