By Jennifer Schelter
What scene would I want to be enveloped in more than this one,
Sitting on the front stoop, crossed legs, outstretched, wearing favorite jeans, and pink Nike sneakers, procrastinating writing those damn tax checks.
It gives me time to think and move my pen blown sideways towards the sun.
The warm buzz hush on my skin, reminds me when James Taylor played at the Mann Center.
The catnip came back. Planted for Shumba. I miss him. He’s not back.
The Boxwoods – some yellow freezer burn – came back.
Tulips came back.
Daisy’s came back.
The Aloe plant didn’t come back either. Put in trash.
The IKEA lantern is rusty.
The Buddha from Target is peeling her royal plastic skin.
I hear 76 traffic and kids bouncing on a trampoline next door.
And the greatest surprise of the day,
The cherry tree bloomed since I stared out the window this morning.
The first thing I heard this morning was a bird singing – need- need- it translated in my head. Then to: dangerous-dangerous.
A throng of chirps like repeated words, one word after the other: Bloom-Bloom. sorry-sorry, love-love, thank you-thank you-eggs-eggs.
Kids are playing Marco-Polo. Marco-Polo! down the street.
The echo of what makes the day.
The cherry tree blooms so fast I took pictures each day last spring and captured the pink fireworks.
Blooming kids and catnip, I ask you, what do you do to bloom?
The cherry tree stands there and does nothing but receives the sun, air and birds.
I ask you, what surprised you today?
What came back?
