An Encounter With My Youth

there was absolutely

nothing else like waiting

for the school bus with

your friends

/

and the crisp

morning air hitting

my dew drop skin

/

the quietness

of everyone else

on the saffron bus

/

our hair still slightly

damp and malleable

from the thunderstorm

/

the sky purpling

becoming bluish

pink and periwinkle

/

as the sun crests

over the golden

green hillsides

/

the silhouettes of

stallions and mare

lining the hungry horizon

/

just like a family

of anxious ants on

a broken branch

/

there was

nothing like it

/

we could smell

donuts and espresso

dancing in the distance

/

the mist. the fog. the window.

was our canvas.

/

we traced ourselves

and were still disappointed

with the image

/

we used our fingers for

finer details and our

entire hands as an

eraser

/

the school bus engine:

an immortal tidal wave

it slipped through

our souls

/

we all reminisce and

remember those mornings

more than realized

/

today - i glanced

through the veins

of a dying apple tree

/

as the lemon tinted

machine whisked

through a murmuration

of starlings

/

i could have sworn

a single hand in the

third row reached out

/

the moment was fast

so my dear friend i

cannot tell you things

/

i cannot say if my

youth was greeting me again

or waving farewell

/

however the honeysuckle

started singing sweetly

/

and suddenly my

aging heart held

no more phantoms

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