Like A Curtain

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.

From Blue Structure. First published in "Poem a Day," Academy of American Poets.