Reid@YWP

I did not know kindness isn't always loud, 
not the grand gestures, not the 
throw-the-coat-over-a-puddle, 
because sometimes 
it is simply someone sitting on the ground 

it is finally finally finally

warm - kind of,

sunshine / soft rain / sixty degrees with a brisk step to it

that makes me think nobody but Vermonters who miss the days

of tap step / crocuses / daffodils buried in snow

Sitting at the kitchen table,

The Beauty and the Beast soundtrack

Humming through an earbud,

My mom streaking the stars

Across my fingernails,

It begins —

This thing call Spring —

With sunshine and birdsong

Slowly infused into everything.

It begins with

Deep brown rivers gauged in viscous dirt roads,

As the frozen ground thaws and overflows.

to live is to see the sorrows of others

to long for the song of your mom

to stroke the head of your black dog

to live is to see the sorrows of others 

to greet at the sound of your father’s feet