I will not miss out on May and June this year.
These are the days and weeks I long for all winter.
When the air is light and the breeze soft and the river flows
Full and blue.
These long days of morning mist and evenings when the
Cool air drops out of the mountains and brushes one’s face
With a livening gloss.
And the lilacs fill the air and all looks washed and new.
I dream of floating down the river under a robin’s egg sky
Or hiking a path up a mountainside to bathe in some cold spring.
I will run barefoot on some cool lawn, face skyward in rain so cold that it burns.
And yet, when the good days have flown by
I have spent them, like I have spent every other
In daily grind, in closed rooms, in official forms and statutory duties
And nothing to remember.