How I would paint happinessSomething hidden, a windfall, A meteor shower. No-A flowering tree releasing all its blossoms at once,and the one standing beneath itunexpectedly robed in bloom…

HeartlandNow that we’ve given our hearts awayWith the bric-a-brac, we want them back.Now we look for them secondhand, Someone else’s, in the old songs, The slowly unfolding novelsWe never had time for. Hearts That taught themselves to fly;…overstuffed hearts, still leakingDowny secrets like feathers.We want someone to say, ‘I give you my heart’, meaning,‘Summer and winter’, meaning‘All my time in the this world’…

Now in the thriving season of lovewhen the bud relents into flower,your love turned absence has turned once more,and if my comforts fall soft as rainon her flutters, it is becauselove grows by what it remembers of love

My husband says spring will be early.He says this every year,And every year I disagree.He needs me, the dark side of the planetary equation.Together we make the equinox.