To the owners of my childhood home

I parked by the curb of your home on the cul-de-sac
Curiosity having brought me here from up north
21 years and a new name from my last visit

I don’t know when you moved into house 206
Whether you planted these tulips and hydrangeas
Or cut down the cherry tree in the side yard

The one that stood at a perfect 45 degree tilt
Just right for a nine year old to shimmy up
With branches open and kind enough to hide within

Did you see where I had precariously nailed
2 or 3 wooden boards into the upper reaches
Where I perched and listened to my walkman

Spying on the boys who one day
Saw our differences too clearly all at once
And stopped inviting me to their games

You couldn’t have known the tree’s heart I suppose
You never swung from the hastily tied rope swing
Or climbed a ladder to rescue a kitten from the leaves

I remember her tiny voice a desperate plea
From an imagined heaven above us as we searched
When the tree opened up and returned her unharmed

But it is your home now

You have made different choices

I hope they hold you

Safe as my cherry tree held me

Balloons over 495

A bundle of bright red hearts
Floats above the steel office buildings

Drifting west
Away from the 495 loop

I am driving home from Huntley Meadows
The day after Valentine’s

On the snow and ice covered trail
I’d seen a cardinal in the distance

He too is a bright red heart
Framed by trees and slate gray skies

Still as the space between breaths

My heart beats red too and murmurs
Once every twelve beats

A quiet stutter
Like the hesitation
Before a leap

Ray Knickmeyer is a designer and facilitator based in Northern Virginia.
They are returning to the joy of poetry after 20 years in corporate America,
focusing on themes of aging, grief, and natural beauty. They find inspiration
in bird watching and photography along the many hiking trails of the DMV.

Featured image “Tall House with Tulips” Photographed and uploaded by Des Blenkinsopp to be licensed via creative commons 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.