February
Endless afternoon
standing in front of the living room window
with the toddler on my hip.
“Spin me, more,” he says.
“Let’s look at the baby birds,” I answer.
The new birds on the bare branches
comfort with earliest spring, February mild
at the edge of the world.
We look out onto the cemetery
there the green, there the gray
months to go before another summer.
1 reply on “February”
Being a mom and being from Portland, this poem really resonates with me! Lovely.