I know I’m not the first and won’t be the last
to comment on the hazy sketches of yellow
that we’ve found winking at us these past
few weeks. One day of sun and we know

heating settings will change over night, vast
swathes of bare chests and tensed abs will show,
washing will jump from lines at the half overcast
sky which wears the sun like a thin kimono.

And the daffodils will speak on behalf of spring,
assuring us we don’t need our coats for today
all we need is a smile and a certain lust for living,
the air will smell better despite the city’s slow decay.

We leave our winter breath to grow hoary and old,
find it again when we’ve remembered how to love the cold.


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