—FLY ROBIN, FLY

 

Peekaboo

 

I thought it might be fun 

to break my own heart today, 

so I picked the stems of you,

each leaf a stubborn pull, 

out in the backyard, 

dodgy squirrels pausing to watch 

atop the fence line, crocuses 

coming up as it’s supposed to do, 

each bud bursting and beautiful, 

same as you when I’d chase you 

through the bushes playing 

Tag or Peekaboo, you just 

five then, back when Spring 

was something to look forward to 

instead of mourn and wish away.