April 2

comment 1
poetry

Spring snow, heavy
from the sun, as one

season slides into
another, jubilant,

inexorable, put on
a happy face and wonder

where has it gone?
No more sloping,

no more gentleness,
whatever I thought

there was, was wrong
and the only way out

is through. Truisms
and robber jays,

ice in the shade.
A refusal

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