Where Would I Go if it Were Yesterday?

By Joanna M. Weston

Which yesterday would I find
if I sat under
a sway of fruit trees?

the yesterday of childhood when plums melted
ripe and dark in my mouth
the stone rough against milk white teeth?

years when bells
graphed each day
to rituals of school?

Or primrose mornings
with the scent of spring secrets
whispered under hawthorn?

Would it be days
of hard-packed ski-runs
rushing beneath streamed body?

It would be the yesterday
without regret and
there is none such