The grey is getting thinner.
Things are like that here,
impossibilities feeding unliklihoods until
anything can happen.
I didn’t know it was possible but
texture bulges from the blanket overhead
stretches and pulls
taffy, until you can almost
see
through.
This old grey quilt is tired and worn,
soft places rubbed thin let warmth out
light in
as color returns,
the scrim lifts and grey becomes vibrant green,
shocking yellow,
red buds insist
on swelling and
nothing not even more rain
can quench the brilliance unlocked.
Cold comes
warmth comes,
but the light is returning
and that is the truest hope
for spring.

Advertisements