In another springtime
the bees stumbled through the lilacs
as the cottonwoods shaded the sun

In that other springtime
lawn mowers played the soundtrack
to every Saturday morning
as the parks filled with chatter

In some other springtime
laughter was an easy sound
overlooked and automatic
a punctuation to joy or silliness

In another springtime
a porchlight called me home
a quiet voice awakened me
before the sun stood a chance

In another springtime
we were free – Caroline A. Slee