The Gentlest
February 21, 2020
The Gentlest
It’s that third week in February
when the sharp metal of cold air starts to give way, just enough,
when the warmth that comes from the sun actually feels yellow
like it’s supposed to feel.
The air has become light and rests gently on my forearm (a bare forearm!)
and if there is even the barest of breezes, I can actually feel those tiny hairs move.
The third week in February intimates the gentlest hint of spring
when the air softens,
the emerging greens are tender and moist,
and pink and soft white blossoms yawn in delicately.
The first photo was taken this morning on the way home from the airport. It felt glorious to arrive in Davis to 70-degree weather and that softness I tried to poet out of myself. (Reminder: poetry for me is a work in progress.)
The other photos were taken in mid February in 2016 and 2015.
Life of Wry 