Francine Witte Again

Francine Witte _______________________________________

Later in June, we would wish / the rain over us, welcome that last

crisp of spring. We wanted to hold / these lovemoments, whisper of forever

written in the tree buds. And yet we knew / what was coming, sad repeat of last

year’s summer, drying grass, bend / of flowerheads into the field, the sudden

broken promises, the surrender of our / tired hearts. How we knew again

that everything that started in April / would show its fraying edges, and by summer

the end of all of it would begin.