geometries of spring
the first warm day of spring.
the quilt my aunt made me
clings to the ground as the breeze
tries to make it fly.
even the sidewalk seems less gray.
we lie intertwined on the softened
fabric, her head on my chest,
the night paralysis of its weight
lightened by her fingers on my cheek.
the oak behind us dances.
the grass sways between our toes.