spring love

There is A storm at my door.
The wild birds have brought it
Swirling in on a single-brained bird cloud
Migrating from the North
East, and from a slow
Winters death

Flood the front yards magnolia
flow onto my walkways
Alight upon the front porch stoop

Witness me
Witnessing you

Till the wonderment overwhelms
and your white down feathers break
through the spaces between
my slack screen door

At least
For a moment there
We truly connected.