Red Curtains in February

For three years, I’ve gazed at my neighbor’s gloomy window shades.
Noted weekend visits of the dutiful son to his housebound matriarch.
Octobers, I catch whiffs of apples softly rotting on the ground.

Then the signs appeared: FOR SALE and, soon, PRICE REDUCED.
And finally, SALE PENDING.

Something’s always ending.

These days, across the driveway, the sound of children’s voices, or a snowblower,
Or a truck with cold engine warming up.

Something’s always starting.

Today, visible from my bedroom window, suddenly red curtains bloom.
More heart-stopping than spring tulips,
This sign of life: Be Mine!

I take the surge of color for my late, unintended valentine:

New neighbors, I love you too.

Barbara Riddle

February 28, 2024
Millinocket, Maine