for Dev Berger

The trick on a walk
in between winter storms
is to open to the sunny day
at the same time a friend
has joined you and talk
commences.

You try to listen more
than you speak, though
it’s just a mile to lunch
down a street you drive
daily.

Because in this liminal
state—one foot still
in winter, one walking
hopefully into spring,
stepping over puddles
where the sidewalk ends
and the street begins—

you want to pay attention
to the tiniest buds that
survived the drenching,
still hanging on to bobbing
branches overhead, even
as the evidence testifies
that some of their brethren
lie underfoot.

But you two—well fed by
the little restaurant down
the street that also survived
its share of storms, still on
your feet, walking in and out
out of spots of sunshine—

you understand how to
cherish being in the midst of,
poised for what’s next,
even when you have no
idea what next
will look like.