Reunion

by Pam Crow

You have pulled me away
from my desk, past stacks of words,
to see the first shoots of lily and iris
leaping from the soft earth
in this half season of a mild winter.

I sometimes long for blind roots
threading down to what is familiar
but I kiss the curve of your collarbone
and follow you out into the wind.

These sturdy stems mutter of lost sleep
and the uncertain dream they are in
but fill with light in every cell, and the deep
remembering of spring. I open my arms to share
their reunion with the air.