When she stretched her arms
the mist lifted and the red buds opened on the maple trees.
She, in the garden in pajamas,
danced with her friend Isabel,
as the fledgling robins wobbled and flew from branch to ground.
Cells multiplied in her body.
Her fingers spread, the warm cool air,
as the mist disappeared like a curtain, open.
Copyright © 2015 by Jan Freeman. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 28, 2015, by the Academy of American Poets.