It may sound odd, but what I miss most
is the spring rain, so short lived, along
the roads in Highland Park in Rochester.
You may say “but you live in Florida
where the seasons are measured by
wet and dry” and we do get rain, sometimes
seemingly in Biblical proportions.
and the Blue-winged Teals have returned
to our wetland now almost half pond.
But the rain I remember for all
of those years was the downpouring
of cherry and apple blossoms as
the trees prepared to begin the long
spring’s trek to summer ornamental fruit,
the streets and sidewalks covered
in pink and white petals like so much
confetti after the annual floral parade
and neither crabapple nor sakura
dares to venture this far to the south.