Yesterday I sent you a letter. And today on the phone
you tell me you are pregnant. I pack up and return,
you greet me at the airport, you’re even lovelier than
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
at the end of a bad year. Trees begin
to outnumber houses. Rain turns to snow
as fields hang like paintings.
