To Timed Seasons

I look for you in the white of my eyes and in my dogs,  the reflection of my spoon,  in the pool of our first house What can I do? when I feel Winter coming in the tickle of my throat. What is there to do when I smell flowers blooming Feel people leaving and coming and staying before they do?​ ​Between breaths, I work on not waiting anymore and blurring out the noise of premature footsteps.

Did you know my heart ticks?  That’s why I can’t stop waiting.  Cannot stop holding onto seconds,  hoarding them under my tongue.

The change of seconds and seasons and you fills my lungs, and my head, the tears of my eyes,  the tug of the corners of my mouth in things I say to people because I can feel the seasons change before they do.

from the faucet of my sink? Hear the strands of my mom’s hair   changing like leaves about to fall? On smiling at the sound of my great aunt calling me my sister’s name and forgetting mine

You showed me that my parents are people.  That you will bring me more winters and more springs.

and the flinch of my heart. i can hear my angels before they have left their bodies