Cold and Warm. Mamá covers her face, a wool embrace chilled by winds that kiss every space. I am always warm, instead. Barefoot in the grass, that tickles as I walk ahead. The strawberries we picked, in ruby bundles, The bunny we met I called him bubbles.

Unexpected. The traveling birds that fade into the sky, I breathe slowly as I wonder why. Why the blooms fold suddenly, when the roots seemed so deep. Why this moment can’t linger? Why is it bitter sweet?