
A hesitancy exists within
the forward momentum
from winter to spring –
within the stubborn
iron grip of frigid
fingers wrapped
around tender
tendrils of
vernal birth
preventing the
air from warming,
from melting the
deceptive layer of
glittering snow masking
last year’s decay,
winter stagnation,
lack of motivation.
Its five to ten pounds
of lazy denial are easily hidden
beneath the woven bulk
of an oversized sweater and
within the concealing shadows
of a disorganized mind,
but are shamefully obvious
within the honest light
of seasonal shift.
Heaping masses of rotting
leaves and thoughts
gradually reveal themselves
beneath the melting white
in slowly warming sunlight,
suffocating delicate sprouts
of chartreuse life itching
for breakthrough below,
exposing the patient truth
of a ground covered
in cold wet shit
that’s waited in frozen silence
for spring’s thawing rays to
release the stench of
winter’s soggy remains –
an odorous mess requiring
laborious attention
before new life
might fully live.
Renee Novosel
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Copyright 2015