The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: The New Life by Wendy Wisner

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The New Life

Because there is nothing
more beautiful than my son running
shirtless in the yard, pink chalk
streaking his chest,
wildflowers squeezed
in his sweaty palms—

And because he’s impatient for more
cherry blossoms
to rain down on his head,
he walks over to the tree,
flings his arms around it,
and shakes—

And because that doesn’t work,
he waves me over and says,
Make it rain—

And because, I explain to him,
the blossoms will only fall
when they’re ready,
a wind catches, as if it knew—

And because it’s now drizzling
ripe cherry blossoms
sideways, across my son’s face,
his father comes out the side door—

And because his father
makes me feel blossomed
and possible, I believe for a moment



this is the new life
and I can trust it not to hurt me.

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