by Barry Vitcov.
I remember when there was a blue sky
hovering, cloudless, over North Mountain
Park. A backdrop for walking alone by
mixed-age groups playing soccer so certain
in who they were and what they were doing.
I’m thinking there must be more than soccer,
much more than feints, foot dribbling, and heading …
something greater when being without her.
Then winds shift and clouds begin to blow in,
and moods return beyond complacency,
and the tenderness of soft hands begins
to reawaken our intimacy.
Clear skies require clouds to fill the blue
with cerulean memories of you.