Do you remember Spring 2017
and the days you thought were your last,
how Mila’s dog would come to lie at your feet
and wait with you in the quiet?
Do you remember that Spring,
the one that failed you,
that left your life fallow
and let nothing grow within you?
That Spring that let no ideas sprout,
no love bloom,
offered your hands only bare desert dust
everywhere you reached?
Do you remember Spring 2017,
with those days that shook their heads
at everything you tried to say?
A Spring that left you alone,
sitting in the winds of Hillsdale Trail
on a mountain facing the city,
that left you somewhere under the contrails of the passing planes
but still above the flat adobe rooftops,
not yet sure whether you were soaring or falling?
Krista J. Iris Watson 