March 6, 2012

The air is on the verge of spring

Transposing winter’s lullaby to a higher

Key, have we forgotten already how the sun will

Cleave to our skin for hours

On end? You ask me why I dress so

Lightly and I say it’s because I remember

May’s prismatic days that come again

And again:

 

What’s true of spring is not always true of youth

By next year at this time you’ll have made

An igloo, I imagine how you’ll bask in the

Watery remains and how long you’ll spend

Trying to rebuild it.