Before, at the end of Spring
There was an open sky
Limitless and forever
The days would end in a brilliant blaze
A bright smile before
The tender breeze of night.
In waking, the day rose in a soft yellow
Everything full of green vigor.
A brush of sweet air would wrap around me,
There was feeling then.
Now, the coldness begins to reach my bones.
The ocean slaps angrily against itself.
The wind torments loose leaves and then ceases–-
Once they fall.
There is no pleasure to your giving.
A routine like the appearance of a forgotten sun
Lifted and dying, blocked by an irrational gray haze.
Only a noise now, a mechanical drone
The huff and rupture from a monotony of cars
Taking the same routes, hoping for the earth to crack.
A pencil scratching against a calendar.
I look out at the sea slush, the white peaks
Waiting for stillness.
The seasons have changed
And I know as a whip of wind smacks down against me
The season will change again.
But as I grow resilient to your cold,
I wonder if I will feel the same.