There, just beyond the door yard, she wanders
and I, hiding behind the curtain, catch glimpses
before she disappears up the avenue
that winds through the apple orchard.
Each morning I watch for her as she walks aimlessly.
Sometimes she steps across her previous step and spins,
dragging a broken branch she found,
and with her eyes closed---smiles.
On occasion she willingly falls, lying there,
still smiling and staring dreamlike at the branches
now laden with white blossoms and the busy humming of bees.
I wish I could know her thoughts--
but then, I fear they might be of some other love
instead of the wonder of this perfect spring day,
or, maybe she dreams of that love that she hasn't yet found.
Perhaps tomorrow I'll stroll---and say "Hello"?