The Neighborhood is Out
March 4, Dalton
The windows open, the fans circling above
To push out must and dust and closeness
I snap the leash and let the lab escort me through the streets
He smells; I, a virus victim, see without smell.
The feral children, out of their houses, out of their shoes
The walkers and their dogs
The dogs without walkers
The kid who got the motorbike for Christmas
The little waves, the long conversations.
The daffodils with sunny crowns
The redbuds on the limb
Crocus and hyacinth peeking through grass that remind us of summer labor
Dandelions and onion distract us from the pansies and violets
The forsythia and hellebores
Camelias and of course dogwood,
Lots and lots of dogwood
We will have a freeze next week; it’s March. No matter.
Today we open our windows and hearts and breathe.
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