This was May 10 last year, the lilacs, wisteria, the dense green leaves. This morning, a few tight buds broken by the rain.
The long-throated daylilies, bright mint, tree frogs hidden in the leaves.
Another year, tree peonies by the fence, poppies, roses opening their petals to the bees.
There is nothing to tie up. No blooms, no long strands. Hummingbirds return again and again to the same flowering currant, the same tired tulips.
you of whom I had heard
with my own ears since the beginning
for whom more than once
I have opened the door
believing you were not far
–W.S. Merwin, from “Late Spring”