Cool air, sky blue and white

clouds, a hint of gray on their undersides.

I have returned to grass to cut,

plants to plant in the box garden.

Amazed at how the body shivers at the end

of May what would be ignored in December.

I am a creature who knows the touch of nature,

who gets accustomed to the weather,

who is surprised when the end of May does not

feel like the beginning of June.

I think how easily I make expectations,

how often they’re not met

how I am to hold what I am given

nothing more, nothing less.

Hootism:  one more day taken away, one more day given.  I like this kind of math.