My father visits in the spring

A freeze is coming,
but the tree I staked is already winking

peach blossoms to let me know
it’s damn sick of winter–their pink faces

smart and sepia like my father’s in photos
from his trip through the desert, hazy

rose gloam of sunset, like warm salmon,
which his tiny mother loved next to salad

pulled from the soil by her husband’s hands,
toughened and dirt-dressed and gentle

as a garden trug cradling tomatoes,
strawberries, squash blossoms, like babies,

his granddaughters, with petaled palms
pillowing filaments and sparks of anther

in their eyes that blink forward
the years to when they stand

opposite peach blossoms
demanding the spring.



Click here to read Talia Pinzari on the origin of the poem.

Image: Frost on a peach tree by Zechariah Judy, licensed under CC 2.0.

Talia Pinzari:
The spark for this poem came during the record ice storm that engulfed Texas in freezing temperatures and deadly conditions in February 2021 – a time of year that had historically been known to hover in the 60s. Days before the storm, the pink buds on our backyard peach tree had begun to open, signaling the coming spring – which, at the time, I was also associating with my parents’ upcoming visit from Massachusetts. The poem unfurled into a carousel slide projector of associative mental images, a nostalgic meditation on the seasons of life, both environmental and personal.

Talia Pinzari
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