Beating Hearts

They look so strong up close, almost like trees.
Remember how we used to walk around the yard in the early frosty spring?
Remember how you called their young shoots “little celeries?” Or was that
me?
I don’t remember now, and you aren’t here to ask.
From farther away they are delicate…fragile, floating into the new season almost first (right after the crocuses).
I need to look up the scientific name of these beauties. Maybe
Then I will begin to understand–
to understand how light can turn things alive,
to understand how color can have infinite hues,
to understand how the texture of green feels in sunlight.

I cannot look at these bleeding hearts without feeling your breath on my neck
your laugh in the sunset
your chest hugged against  mine
in time
beating hearts. 

 

 

 

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