Early Riser

Your head on my pillow
in the light of the
sunset through my window
you were gone by the time the
sun rose in the morning
waiting for me in the kitchen
when I awoke
a mug of tea
wrapped in your hands
an empty one
waiting for me
to join you.

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The Music Room

I fall in love too much, too quickly. As soon as I saw the room, I was in love with it.  I could see posters and decorations up on the walls, my horn on its stand in the corner.  I could see my name in the hallway, next to the door, and the smiling faces of students I’ve yet to meet.  It’s amazing how much love you can find for something you may not even get.  But I think that’s the beauty of being a teacher — love is what you reap because love is what you sow.

Afraid of the Dark

Sometimes
I’m afraid of
the dark
not all the time
but when everyone is
upstairs in bed
the lights are off
and the shadows fall
just right
even my own home
is an unfamiliar darkness
my heart races
and I sprint
up the stairs
to the safety of
my own bed
and the sweet dreams
of sleep.

The Breakwater

We drove to Rouse’s Point and got sandwiches from Sandy’s Deli, to go. That picnic dinner on the breakwater, with just a little bit of spray flicking us as the water hit the rocks, is one of the best memories I’ve ever made with you. You finished your BLT before I was even half-done my club sandwich, because I was too busy telling you stories about my grandparents and great-grandparents to eat, so you took a selfie while my mouth was full, and kept it. We took a cheesy picture of our shoes, your right, my left, like a couple might, even though we’re just best friends, but maybe that’s enough for now, because you kept that, too.

Can’t Help

Sometimes
I forget
just how much
I love you
and then I
see your smile
hear your voice
and it all
bubbles up
and over
and I just can’t help
but smile.

Sweetly Strange

It’s strange
but sweet
the sudden realization
that I am looking at
listening to the boy I’ve
fallen in love with.

stranger still
knowing he’s
my best friend
that I get to
call him
once a week
sometimes more
that I’ll
see him tomorrow
and many more
days to come

For Everything

For all the times you’ve ever refused to kiss me, refused even a hug, I am still full of contentment and joy in the company of you. For all the explanations back and forth, the why’s of my physical expression of affection, the why’s of you being selective and sparing of the same, I think I love you more. For all the things we know so far, and all the things we’ve yet to learn, I am certain this will be something built to last. For all the times I say I love you, I never mean it less.

Normal for Vermont

I grew up in a place
where it snows in April
and the flowers still
bloom in May.

I grew up in a place
where summer is short
and winter is long
and everything gets covered in snow.

I grew up in a place
where March comes
in like a lion and goes out
like a bigger lion.
(Probably because it ate the lamb.)

I grew up in a place
where the weather can change
in fifteen minutes or less
and nobody seems to mind.

I grew up in a place
that’s never too hot
but sometimes too cold
but that’s what warm coats and boots are for.

I grew up in a place
where springtime means mud
and the chipmunks
might eat your flower bulbs.
I grew up in a place
where autumn is wet
like the summer was saving
all its best storms.

I grew up in a place
where the weather is odd
and people from elsewhere
just don’t understand that
for Vermont
it’s really just normal.

Home

If home is where the heart is, then my home is you.  It’s as true as it is sappy and cliché.  Even my parents’ house, the blue one on Clover Street, that used to be tan with dark red shutters, with the beech tree out back I still sometimes climb into to sit and read, the antlers on the shed now broken off, the one that held my childhood, feels more like home with you in it.  Even the car ride to take you back to your house, singing the whole hour-and-a-half, feels like home until you open the front passenger door and wave goodbye, holding my heart at home, with you.