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At the End

It all comes back to home

to what we first knew

of home, the sense of it.

I smelled spring tonight

after a hard winter

a bitter time of cold

and isolation, unrelieved

darkness, arguments

alcohol as solace.

But, it began with

the light in the morning

the moisture from thawing

the wind soft

over the lake

the ringlets of leaves

a freshness that

could only come

from the snowy north

and we awaken to it

a promise, an invitation

I wanted to run outside

bare feet on the wet

silk grass, leaves

everywhere, sweet air.

~~ Pat Maslowski