Now we are nearing the end of the final exam
here in early June, named after Juno,
the Roman goddess of examinations,
a time when the trees seem surprised
at how green they have become
and all kinds of flora are springing up in the yards.
Azaleas, for example, are very common,
and you remember the colors
of the ones you saw this morning
in the neighbor’s yard on your walk to school—
red, white, and bright pink—
the neighbor with the tall daughter
whose hand you once held in the dark,
the silence so deep on the porch swing that night,
just the whisper of a breeze,
the sound of her breathing against yours,
then the voice of an adult instructing
the class to look up and put down your pencils.