Remember? We were introduced six summers ago.
I indulged in a shot of local bourbon
at the Grill Fish that keeps getting loose
of that hook on the corner of Limestone
up between Third Street Stuff and Transy.

We clicked. I knew it was right:
your arts community and even the humidity
(both thick and close). The rainfall. The stone.
Hills and mosses that call me back to England.

Remember? Went against tradition.
Reverse-pioneered, east-not-west.
Didn’t know honeysuckle smelled
just like the grape iris that we’d
planted special in Grammy’s yard.

We celebrated. It was often a kind of Easter here. Wide with different family and food, wider still
on account of I had a blank slate, a full heart,
maybe a subtle, sacrilegious resurrection.

My favorite gifts include
all the cardinals. The fireflies. The possum.
And this year’s cicada.

It’s hard, but I’m packing, cleaning, tying up loose ends
and ready to go for now. It’s not at all
like the last time I started over. But I found someone
with cargo space for our memories.
I travel east again.