The first time, we park
across the square
from Jaarsma
Bakery
so
we can walk, stretch our legs
breathe the air outside
the car. Three men
near a truck
filled with
soil
lean on shovels, planting
bulbs in mid-Autumn,
late October
morning sun.
We go
back:
Pella in the spring, brick
sidewalks, red awnings,
purple tulips
everywhere.
Drizzle
falls
and people on the square
turn heads to speak, walk
through the rain in
silent, floured
motion.
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