SLIPSTREAM

did I miss it?

the warm humming invitation rising from concrete?

the whisper of wild summer coming?

on a day in winter, a day like any other,

suddenly it arrives without warning.

it does every year,

and the only way to notice is with your cheek to the window screen

curled up in a yellow blanket 

reading a book on the floor. 

the flowerbed outside becomes my forest

sheltering hedges filtering the light

the arrival of summer is greeted by an eager child

summer, yes, not spring,

because that ripple of light in the air brings it all

brings saltwater pools and swimsuits and milkshakes at sundown.

but did I miss it this year?

I missed it last year in the mountains

tracking through snow in my slip-ons

this year in dallas, the trees turned slowly green,

exchanging their desperate bare branches for brilliant oak leaves,

but suddenly it is easter.

did I miss it?

I lift into awareness at the song of a girl named Ariel

you said I always was one,

helplessly in love with the sea

but trying desperately to be like the others

it's even why I colored my hair red, you said

well, in the depths I may find you

a few chords in the key of F

carry me to a hammock in a grove of blue jay trees

my own personal meadow enclosed by a fence

making candles by lamplight

cooking meals for one

breaking the day into the house through curtains

the house I thought of as lungs, brain, stomach

chasing ducks for a week at a time

only to welcome a lover with roses.

tracy said "slipstream," and I jolted in obedience

the way you suddenly shift seasons never ceases to amaze me

and with this chill spell loitering in mid-april

I am happy to accept the invitation

and find you again under a new blanket, a new mantle

sing your siren song and pull me into the sea.