spring

like love, spring comes quickly: one day you run down the same old trail to find it's now green and cloistered. the trilliums have popped down by the pond:


there's vibrant columbine in the bed by the kitchen door:


and the jack-in-the-pulpits for the most part have sprung from their phallic tubes, but here's a late bloomer:


the women's locker-room at the YMCA is undergoing spring cleaning. this morning i walked in to find half of the floor spotless, brand sparkly new, as though someone had taken a massive pressure washer to that area, leaving an unfinished half as contrast so we could appreciate the effort. and i was sure appreciative.

-- wow, what a difference a little cleaning makes – i noted to Fashionista Blondie, who shames me with her knee-high, pointy-toed boots and pencil skirts while i’m shucking my cargo pants and Blunnies.

-- i was just thinking about what we’ve been walking on all this time – she says, tight-lipped and frowny. poor woman. her boots must pinch her toes real bad.

we take it for granted, spring, but what if you knew this one were your last?