Tendrils

Soft underwater brush
Against the foreign body
At the edge of the pool,
Breezy graze against the knee
Of a bike’s wheel
On the metro,
One eye in the sheets and
Kitty cushion-paws
Against the morning
Cheek,
Index finger offered
As a companion
At a cross-walk,
My mother’s palm
Kissing
My forehead:

Spring tendrils
Pushing timidly,
Irresistibly,
Through the soil
Of winter sleep,
With their long
Dainty fingers
Touching,
Caressing,
Holding on,
Keeping the world
In place.