You remind me of spring rain
Of dust motes illuminated in beams of sunlight, creating a kaleidoscope of dancing planets
Of freshly washed sheets and a down comforter
You remind me of the firefly jars that used to line my windowsill in July’s of my childhood
You remind me of worn wooden stairs, the kinds with deep grooves worked into their centers, slippery to visitors but comforting to me
Of mass market paperbacks full of margin notes and dogs ears strewn about
You remind me of sweaters
Of bare feet on old soft carpet, made soft over the years of love they have endured
You remind me of humming and soil and firesmoke caught in hair
Of coffee breath and cracking mugs
Of tree bark and leaves and acorns
You remind me of the sun
I look for you everywhere
I see you in everything