Spring Nights, too

Spring nights, too, I wandered uptown

unsheltered

devouring

free-floating particles of other people’s conversations

guzzling the scent of milky trees

frothing

showering

promises at my feet

I wondered what we would be saying

Drunk on street lamps, I took to the alleys

gayly

winding

the long way back.

But those were old times.

Back when there was time,

time to have and to hold before the

frozen

always

of these sheltered places.

Now I don’t wonder.

I know.

and in my knowing I am still…

…and still

the spring thrusts frothy blooms at my feet.

Another promise.

Amanda Deboer Bartlett