My mother sighs and drops the book
Lifting her gaze to the window, she watches one solitary yellow leaf
Fall slowly from the sun-speckled canopy of the cherry tree in the backyard
Through the wilting blossoms that lend a musty fragrance to the chilling air
Float hesitantly until it settles on the faded green grass
The leaves of the book lie crinkled on the table
Houseman’s words peeking around the edge of the cover
My Spring vigor grows restless within me
So I sigh loudly, boredom blossoming from my lungs
My mother looks down into my unconcerned 15-year-old May face
Smiling, “Maybe one day you’ll understand”