Having just awoken from the winter of my youth

I stand perched upon the crest of a spring afternoon.


Like the twisted madrone straining

From the wet earth toward the warming sun

My arms pulse with a seedling's vigor.


Morning's rain drips from the rhododendron.

A few buds have split their scaly pods

Revealing tender fuchsia.


Beneath the giant cedar, the ground is dry.

A clover blossom clings to its auburn bark.

Here is a quiet place to sit and rest. To inhale


The most pleasant hours of the day.

The most temperate quarter of the year.


The sweetest season of my life.

Chris Maccini is a producer for Spokane Public Radio, a member of the Spokane Arts Commission and a graduate of the MFA program at EWU. His writing has appeared previously in Fugue and is forthcoming in Lilac City Fairy Tales.

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