Come April

If not for the hair
caught in the corner
where the broom
cannot reach,
I would never know
that you were here.

And if not for the corner
where the broom
cannot reach —
if not for the moulding
that pinned it —
if not for the wall
and the ceiling’s crease —
if not for the rafters
and shingles,
there we would be no hair.

And if not for the hair,
there would be no fingers,
no care to tie a single knot,
that last delicate act of binding,
carried to the window,
released.

And if not for the window,
if not for the wind or
the spruce entangled,
if not for the wake —

No robin’s nest or blue eggs
come April.

Image: Ian Baldwin on Unsplash

Published in “La Piccioletta Barca” – Issue 19 – May 2020: https://picciolettabarca.com/issues/issue-19/