Spring is a Good Season for Reconciliation

The moment we turn the corner,
a cold front hits,
a carpet of chilly air
unrolled at our feet.
I pull my cardigan tightly
around my chest, hold it closed.
You hook your heavy arm
around my neck, pull me closer.
We walk on, quicker now.
You admire the shape
of Maggie’s cherry blossoms;
I, the golden tulips in her side yard.
The scent of lilac follows us home.