I am not sure
if swallows have returned to Capistrano
but dolphins have returned to Venice
We walk our back garden
alone together
The weeping cherry
drops white tearlets
onto purple Solomon’s seal
surging up from winter rest
Bolder peonies
in deep red
are already knee high
Daffodils and Lenten roses
nod their greetings
while shy vinca tries to hide
their blue in green skirts
Radishes arise
as we bury potatoes
Bloodroot’s pure white flowers
beneath budding trees
belie its name
Our constructed world slows
as God’s world grows
And dolphins swim past
quiet Venetian streets