Sunday, January 13, 2008

February

“can you smell it?”
“what?” you asked.
“the spring,” said i.
the corpse of lifeless leaf crackled,
cracked, &
croaked beneath the grinding heel of
passersby. You scoffed,
and sniffed,
and scoffed again—a groaning, chill-
wind branch murmured dryly
his assent;
Even the Groundhog fled.
i
sighed: “perhaps not,” said my heart, and walked on.
Still,
i could have sworn
that--
for a glimpse however brief
--it was sunlight lit your curls.
And weren’t those blossoms at my toes?
or merely(maybe)
snowflakes caked in hope.

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