Sometimes the trees know,
Or do they?
The sap seems to be rising spring
The sun is up a bit earlier and
Lingers a little longer

We met over mint tea
Bathed in warm lights of Starbucks,
The sun already steeped
We sat near a corner, chairs angled towards
One another

A first meeting, perhaps a last
But in dreams of spring
All hope’s eternal
Her eyes danced and jumped atop her smile
Flames licking logs in a warming hearth

We danced to our eye-speak,
Smoldering embers emitting snaps and pops,
Shooting sparks aching to escape
We feasted on one another
Without sharing a meal

If nothing else,
If nothing more,
For a magical eternity, a brief few hours
My rising spring was in her warmth
And nothing else in the world mattered.

This post and blog are copyrighted by Glen-Peter Ahlers, Sr.