The Spring I cannot see

(first witch hazel bloom in our yard - photo Preeti Gopalan)

 

The Spring I cannot see 

(150 words)

The problem with an adoring little brother?

He also adores you on damp, grey, suffocating days

where friends are glitchy squares on palm sizes screens

and friendships fade away with a button click,

when you can’t tolerate talking, let alone bubble games.

I’m sick of you! 

I yell and run outside,

unable to stand his silly puppy joy.

I dare the foggy yard to disagree.

The witch hazel waves something at me.

Her first orange bloom.

It’s still Jan, dumb tree. What are you happy about?

But staring at that orange in the grey,

I  admit, 

she knows of a spring I cannot yet see, 

can't yet believe.

I wish I had her wisdom.

I stare awhile,

then turn to the window, to the hurt eyes watching.

I’ll play soccer if you come out.

A smile. Orange t-shirt races out, ball in hand

His puppy heart more forgiving than I deserve.

As I pretend to miss,

I’m glad for the chuckling tangerine streak across my grey.