NPM: Stage of Life

Our hostas haven’t sprouted yet 

They lie dormant beneath the topsoil

But the neighbor’s hostas

Are poking their tender green heads

Up from their cool, dark slumber

In fact, all around the block

I see them growing

And feel affronted

How dare they?

I crouch down along the row of dirt

Where last year’s hostas flourished

Running my fingers through the mulch

Searching with fingertips for a sign of life

I find nothing but dry soil

And the memory of verdant summers past

Perhaps mine are just late bloomers

Perhaps they are just slow starters

Waiting in stasis for life to begin

Or perhaps I am waiting in vain

For a resurrection that will never come

NPWM Day 4: Waiting

Spring rain kisses the windshield

As I sit in the humid car

And wait for you

My fingers drum the steering wheel

Following an erratic rhythm

Of the song in my head

Lightly falls the rain

Drops collecting, combining,

Snaking their way down the glass

I watch them slide away

But my eyes unfocus

And I am gazing past them

At nothing in particular

My eyes wait for you

To emerge through the rain

Like a vision, like a dream

But you do not part the raindrops like a curtain

You do not push the clouds back like a scroll

You do not show up at all

My fingers stop their drumming

My eyes stop their searching

The rain stops its falling

And I slowly drive away

Still waiting