At the Spring Equinox Without You

5 for Howard When I came to sit, fleshing out the day by three west windows where on good days the sky blushes at its edges, or flames a scarlet denouemont, my gaze flickering from the boredom of Sunday television found distraction in the burgeoning leaves of sycamores near these panes: a fluttering pigeon, a streetwise scavenger, balanced on a bough too delicate for its clumsy weight. Tightrope walker, it fans its wings, then tail to keep the balance, feeding on new foliage, tender greens of spring's spangled aura, small pledges promising abundance. Arrow- shaped and aimed at summer's abundant heart, they defined you to me, absent lover-- Try to dismiss your memories, if you can.