The Spring Wind

Poem by Sarah Butkovic

it hasn’t been this warm since my hair was long
and it feels like the sun planned it out perfectly —
to bake our skin gently
while the wind swept us up like kite tails in the sky
and there must’ve been a lot of wind during my year-long leave
because you’ve been smoothed out and leveled,
furnished by the elements into a fully-formed man.
you have entire ecosystems in your clearwater eyes,
teeming with the blue innocence of adolescence
and spilling stories without speaking a word.
we look less alike now, you and i.
in fact, i look like the younger cousin
but I don’t really mind.
four hours have never fallen through my hands more quickly
than they did that easter sunday.
placing half empty beer cans behind parked cars
and poisoning our ears with trashy tunes
while the sun said its irish goodbye and dipped behind the
mountaintops of midwestern houses —
those moments are transient dandelion seeds 
that drift without notice in the bustle of life.
but i think i’ll find those tiny seeds —
i’ll pick them up off the overgrown grass
and take them to my grave if poetry really counts for something.
because i want to remember the sun on my face
and how disheveled we got with the car windows down.
i want to remember before we grow old
and can only look back with a wrinkled smile
more fleeting than that lovely april afternoon.

My name is Sarah Butkovic, and I received my BA in English from Dominican University in May of 2021 and recently received my MA in English from Loyola University Chicago. Ray Bradbury is my most frequent literary muse as well as my favorite author.