Sliver of the icicle from a clogged gutter in April, wind like a spray // of water, biting raw our cheeks and hands held to pray.
A rolling over in my belly, again. You awaken like spring // should be. Up with the hyacinths and daffodils opening petals to pray.
Sticky fingers in my hair, ringing curls around your index // together we smell like peanut butter, a scent to teach me to pray.
When you climb the stairs alone, my back turned, your smile grows // like spring urgency or crocus bursting among new grass to pray.
Pray for sunshine. Golden hair as you run from me, a shriek as joyful as a prayer. // The robins scatter at your approach and you reach your hands out to pray.