For the Blessing of Walking Home at Midnight Without a Jacket
On porch swings the April night smells
smoky and potent.
All those emergent flowers
make love to every passing tear duct.
Fickle and poisonous, we must guard ourselves,
one good frost and it’s the fall out of winter, again.
Again, stay yourself till mother’s day.
We bless the temperature, dance carefully,
faces tilted towards the heavens.
Faces like God was afraid it wouldn’t all fit.
Faces like hand grenades.
Michigan springs are too beautiful to not be dangerous.
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