Signs of Winter

It is raining again

is the punch line to a letter

I am writing to my friend in Chicago.

She is huddled in her windy city

apartment  surrounded by

knee-deep snow,

contemplating staying there

until spring.

I am in my kitchen in Santa Clara

surrounded by winter green hills,

contemplating a Safeway bag

full of Meyer lemons from my

parents’ yard.

Last time we talked I told her I might

make marmalade

that the chard was coming up

in the front yard

the apricot tree had started to bloom.

She said being a locavore in Chicago

in the winter meant eating a

lot of turnips.