March 24, 2014 We Write Poems #11/That Spring

That Spring

That spring in your

Garage apartment

My house had sold

I was alone

Adrift

The frogs were leaping

In the little pond in

The back yard

Or during the day
Cuddled under the shade

We would sunbath

Lying on the wicker

You asked if

I minded if you

Didn’t wear a suit

We were alive

Midlife

Southern bells ringing

The air was thick

And hot and it wasn’t

Even summer yet

I had pulled up

The old roots

Left my old life

Behind...

Soon I would be

Headed West

You would soon leave

Our bones ached

To be on the move

The sprinklers kept

The yard wet

Tropical

The pond an oasis

For all the frogs

In Harris County

At night their loud calls

A cacophony of sound

Made sleep impossible

I shifted position

On the damp bed sheets

The sound of the 

Air conditioner's motor 

Combined with their calls

A noisy night in the

Neighborhood

The frogs never whispered

Only yelled at the top

Of their lungs

After all they

Had no cellphones

And they were calling

All possible mates

On the planet

The hot wind

Moved the banana leaves

A gentle rustle

In the night

On another night

At a local bar 

We ate crawfish

You loved them

Could eat more 

Than anyone

Time stood still

Another place

Another time

Little piece of

History

Buried in my memory

Gentle transition

Long hours stare into space

Wait for answers

Scribble notes to myself

Time has passed...20 years

I’m OK...hope you are too

Process notes:  I only stayed a few months.  After I left, I heard the woman left her husband, returned to Europe.  I haven’t heard about her in years, I hope she found what she was looking for.