we watched as spring slinked in on all fours,
meowing at winter’s hooves as he flew
off on snow-pocked wings; she entombed
her narcissus, her hyacinth. she waited.
our hands formed a basket and tapestry
of weaved fingers; we tucked our feet
into sun-kissed grains of sandboxes,
counting blades of grass; we fed
birds from benches dappled in dusk
and chipped paint and carvings. those hours,
our hours, stretched as sunsets tied
ribbons of red across the horizon,
the white clouds soaked in blood.
we slipped each moment into our pockets
while hoping for unshifting shadows of sundials.
the wind whistled as lions’ manes
blew themselves away, bearing our wishes.