Seaspring

There is anticipation
in the air.
The boats are ready,
hulls scraped clean
of last year's stowaways,
trims painted, decks washed
of long gray yesterdays.

The sun makes restless sailors
of us all, we want to feel
unsteady again,
off dry ground.

I know you miss your sea legs
when choppy waters whip up
white-caps even here
in this sheltered spot.

Our common ground,
these tossing, jostling tubs
that bring us out on the first
fine day to celebrate winter's
passing, to embrace one another
and the sun.