My dear
Spring is come
The sycamore the Crepe Myrtle
Both birthing their new leaves
Roses in their garden
Bloom again
Recovered from their pruning
I miss mating of the
Mockingbirds
Scolding squawks claiming
Territories
Music of their calls
Resounding down the canyon walls
Around us
They have disappeared from my
Life
My dear
Do you remember spring
In Illinois
The ancient lilac bush
We transplanted
From the farm
Across from us on McCree
Road
Its house torn down
Making way
For a crop of new houses
Remember
We let the hose drip water
Two whole days two whole nights
Around her roots
Praying she’d survive
She did bloomed so faithfully
Sending the delicious scent
Of her blooms
Into our bedroom window
Oh I welcome spring
In California
But mourn the ancient
Lilac bush
No flowered fragrance
Will ever fill her place