Spring Rain in Winter

The rain,

that two years ago would have been snow kept us in bed and off the roads,

washed over the house and tapped on the window glass

like a secret guest

evading the front door

to sneak a kiss or a word or a

handwritten note

explaining what it’s like

to need someone else.

A drizzle

as if Spring chose the time to come

with little regard for

these bones, like bulbs

seeds from last summers blooms,

wishing for one more night of rest.

Spring rain

coming through the window

saying, “I couldn’t wait.

I’ve needed you.”