Paul Reginato

usually you don't know at the time

the last
is whichever turns out to be the last


each season ends with a snowflake
and o how numerous and layered the seasons

last snowflakes
are falling on our fields all the time
precious few ever labeled
most like babies who die before they're named


last welcome press on the shoulder
last shared box of strawberries
last hearing singing
last I'll smell
your toast at breakfast
you don't make toast very often
just now and then
for a few days in a row
it smells good


sometimes you think you do know
and you really might be right


I think
this is the last spring
I'll have with you
let's find
a kind of flower
we've never seen before
I love you
this spring