spring is near
i can’t see crocuses
but the pink sky
of fading dawn
as i step out of the gym
total darkness
no longer my closest friend
on my zippity commute
soon it will be full sun
i’ll strap on my helmet
and pedal past the church
over the hills
that any day of the week
can beat this stationary cycle
i will be a part of the sunrise
that winter has kept from me
only at dawn
stepping out of the gym
could i see this golden moonset
it hangs above the skyline
a bright medallion kissing the morn
and smiles at the pink-streaked clouds
that rise opposite
welcoming the wintry day
where snow sits stacked
along the edges of the road
covering the cattle-longing pastures
we all know the words he angrily threw
were as sore as the punches he received
the same bitter words that he learned through you
yet through his blameless smile we were deceived
now you take your piece of technology
and throw blatant bitterness back at us
refuse to accept our apology
instead (like your child) make a giant fuss
you be the helicopter, us the grass
shove your way across the unknown landscape
bulldoze through until we are on our ass
force us into the place we can’t escape
someday you will rise up and see the view
of the ungrateful scene you choose to make
you will perceive the punches threw and through
we’ll be the ones who choose you to forsake
we have left the pretty pink bar,
beauty slipping from sky in silent flakes.
the roads are not icy yet,
but moist in anticipation:
the wipers push away drops
(we have no possibility of sliding)
i watch the silent storm
move into my city,
remembering him in eighth grade,
so tiny and cute,
turning around in social studies
and making fun of the teacher
he is not here,
but rides along the slick streets
inside my mind as i pull back
the cautious, modest man he has become,
a beauty in the Beauty Bar
with his grace and patience,
more perfect than any dress
he could ever create
for the runway of his dreams.
like animals preparing for winter,
we watch the daytime sky.
sun shines through early on
and we gather together stories,
hoarding them like acorns
along our hollow trunks,
our words heavy with hope
as clouds commence their cover.
we dart around on daily duties,
trapping warmth in our dens,
keeping track of small changes
in the ever-darkening air
as we keep our eyes on the sky,
our hearts open to impending flakes
that will magically make us happy
we are animals adhering to your laws,
bulking our bodies against
the winds that will blow it in,
forgiving its harshness
for the safe moments
where we will gather together
and watch a silent snowfall
bring in a new beginning.
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