it's april now

The grass is the waving, enthusiastic fanbase
for the theater of the sky
while the benches
swap sly smiles
across the path,
like, “I’ve been expecting you, I’ve been expecting you”

Stillness so present
it has a certain vivaciousness
you wouldn’t anticipate.

It hangs in the air
like winter breath
or regretted words,
and it’s all I can pay attention to

while I play reverse bench:
Not expecting you, and not expecting you.