The moving vans have come and gone. We say,
“Good riddance! Now you need not come again.
We’ve found our home and plan to stay a while,
A long, long while perhaps if things remain
As paradisiacal as they are
These first few days we’ve been here.” Spring abounds.
The city is a garden: golden, lush,
Wooded, eager. Now each breath feels new.
We’re born again as children with you, child,
Here among the shady trees, the rows
Of roses, tulips, yellow raspberries,
And, oh, those endless boxes, cardboard walls
That we break through to free our lives from webs
Of fading pasts toward new adventures, love.
And you’re anew as well, with attitudes
Beyond a baby, with fresh looks, fresh words
And phrases such as: “Hug you, Daddy?” “Thank
You, Mom!” or “No more Jaime, gray cat, plays
‘Coyote,’” when he’s howling at the moon.
Who knows what’s next? I hold my breath in wonder.