That day in spring everyone remembers

4/9/2023 Sunday Sundries Day 9

Poppy used to stop here and say hello and then bark since he didn’t move

Embodied
Con/Jur/d, 4/9/2023

‘tis the season to remember what it's like to have a body
to marvel on the return or rather the remembrance of space

70s:  the sharp early green, looking for eggs in the backyard
barefoot, laughing wearing stripped and patterned pajamas

80s: later, after a winter of bronchitis, ulcers, bulky sweaters a sun
diffuse and warm on exposed skin, become strut and grin

90s: yoga, breathwork, therapy, vitamins, mind-machines, fasts
to keep the fear at bay, a beer, the smell of fresh-cut grass works better

Aughts: frantic, damp gets in your bones, a constant missing of daughter
on the way to get coffee, light rises at 6:04 AM washes away numbness

10s: a little too much for comfort the night before, saying with cigarette
“Need to care for body” “You do,” he says “Always a fresh pack handy”

Indefinable Now: age bursts forth around us, how lucky we are to still arrive 
not knowing how or why, with different aches, on Spring’s resurrecting shores

They’re everywhere

Much, much love,

Con/Jur/d, 4/9/2023