By Mike O’Connell 

those dormant festivals, parades,
of better weathers, are stirring,
warming up, planning, quietly
urging the sun to come. darkness,
slowly, oozes deeper into the day,
dampening disorders into vague
remembrance, folding up bitter
cold yesterdays into, soon to be
put away, ice scrapers, gloves,
warm coats, and wool. just on the
other side of the rain and snow,
is the unfolding spring, summer,
and the other seasons of our lives.
winter wavers, giving in to the
promises of warm, relenting to
the sun. I watch the windows for
the leaves.


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