In Respect for Spring

This coy day
folds in on itself
as winter wears out
like sweaty hands
wiped on an apron
or thrust into deep pockets.

This tired hour
has us longing for more
before the clock runs out
and we are asleep again
against the cold and dark grief
that is caught as a lump
in my throat
just like the churning tangle
of my belly.

So many losses
to keep in one basket.
So many goodbyes
I have lost count
of endings.

Fool the stars
and pretend it is spring
on our doorstep
and the tulips can't wait
to pay respect to the warming
earth.