the sweet insubordination of springtime
glowing white
after shining april showers
wet roads to nowhere and everywhere at once
all lead to you
with your wicked champagne grin
a book in each hand
riding your bicycle into the sky, impervious
to everything but joy

who are you?

who are you to fill my world with little fishes
and other bright things that swim
so fluently through endless mornings full of soap and sunshine
not a thought to be spared for the black clouds
but only the clean new spring that falls from them

you’re a smoky cinnamon end to an evening dream
wrapped in new things
a waltz in two-four time
the answer to a question no one ever asked

and you’re mine.