Angelic antiphons rebound
From the coliseum walls
Echoing chords of delicacy and delight
Dying in the wind only to be reborn
With every progressive step
Brass gleams in the sun of noon
This is our moment
And the pride of our power
Bursts in color and music
Shape and sound
Flags and drums
Controlled fury
Exquisitely shaped restraint
Perfect precision
Creation in motion
This is our moment
To shine and shimmer
To blare and blaze
To awe and arrive
We will prevail
And vanquish
Our own lack of discipline
And we will be
Victorious
Spark (2007)
A miniscule spark
Imperceptible
Except for a wisp of smoke
She left behind her
And a remaining radiance of heat
In her trail
Hot, powerful, brilliant
Bound to kindle a massive inferno
She was the fire of potential
Coming into a dry world
To set it ablaze
She dodged the air currents
Trying to blow her out
And fueled herself on them
Burning brighter
Because of them
She escaped the dampness
Attempting to extinguish her
Pushing past them
With sizzle and steam
As though on a fuse
That precious, vital spark raced
Touching the parched and lifeless
Creating a beautiful pulse
Of comforting heat
The spark burned fast
Bright and intense
And just as quickly as she caught
She was gone
But every atom that touched her
Still blazes with her heat
Still glows with her warmth
Still burns with her energy
And that blessed fire she left us
Will never disappear
As we cherish the embers of her life
And stir the coals of her memory
We will always feel warm
And hold a debt
To that tiny
Scintillating
Spark
© Thomas Lee Horton, All Rights Reserved.
Written to honor the memory of Ashley Strickland.
Imperceptible
Except for a wisp of smoke
She left behind her
And a remaining radiance of heat
In her trail
Hot, powerful, brilliant
Bound to kindle a massive inferno
She was the fire of potential
Coming into a dry world
To set it ablaze
She dodged the air currents
Trying to blow her out
And fueled herself on them
Burning brighter
Because of them
She escaped the dampness
Attempting to extinguish her
Pushing past them
With sizzle and steam
As though on a fuse
That precious, vital spark raced
Touching the parched and lifeless
Creating a beautiful pulse
Of comforting heat
The spark burned fast
Bright and intense
And just as quickly as she caught
She was gone
But every atom that touched her
Still blazes with her heat
Still glows with her warmth
Still burns with her energy
And that blessed fire she left us
Will never disappear
As we cherish the embers of her life
And stir the coals of her memory
We will always feel warm
And hold a debt
To that tiny
Scintillating
Spark
© Thomas Lee Horton, All Rights Reserved.
Written to honor the memory of Ashley Strickland.
Holding (2009)
Existence on hold
Waiting for a break in the inaction
Stymied by the endless possibilities
Unable to see certainty
Merely wishing to make life happen
Fearful of what may occur
Fearful of what may not
That devilish empty hope
That some external force
Will shape me
Into what I feel
I cannot become
Of my own volition
Procrastination
Reigns and lords heavy over me
Rains and pours the wait interminably
From an angry black cloud
With a lining of fool’s gold
And so I wait
Hesitate
Holding
But holding you
Is compensation enough
For my impatience
And holding you
Is reason enough to wait out the malaise
Holding you
Is motivation
To make my life happen
So I can get back to what is important:
Holding you
Waiting for a break in the inaction
Stymied by the endless possibilities
Unable to see certainty
Merely wishing to make life happen
Fearful of what may occur
Fearful of what may not
That devilish empty hope
That some external force
Will shape me
Into what I feel
I cannot become
Of my own volition
Procrastination
Reigns and lords heavy over me
Rains and pours the wait interminably
From an angry black cloud
With a lining of fool’s gold
And so I wait
Hesitate
Holding
But holding you
Is compensation enough
For my impatience
And holding you
Is reason enough to wait out the malaise
Holding you
Is motivation
To make my life happen
So I can get back to what is important:
Holding you
Haunted (2009)
Night has fallen, she has gone, the darkness now takes hold
My psyche faces phantoms that eclipse those tales of old
Thrilling chills passed down to me in tomes of yellowed lore
Pale against the ghosts of memories born moments before
Her flesh feels fresh and firm and smooth and glides under my fingers
Her laughter rings within my ears, her subtle fragrance lingers
The sweetness of her mouth on mine, her loving touch remains
My heart yet aches, my soul is bound to her with iron chains
I am gladly haunted, I do not want to forget
And I refuse to bear the brunt of sorrowful regret
Painful parting I would endure thousands of times o’er
To hold her in my arms another single moment more
And were I faced with choosing to have never loved, or lost
I know that she was worth the price, no matter what the cost
My psyche faces phantoms that eclipse those tales of old
Thrilling chills passed down to me in tomes of yellowed lore
Pale against the ghosts of memories born moments before
Her flesh feels fresh and firm and smooth and glides under my fingers
Her laughter rings within my ears, her subtle fragrance lingers
The sweetness of her mouth on mine, her loving touch remains
My heart yet aches, my soul is bound to her with iron chains
I am gladly haunted, I do not want to forget
And I refuse to bear the brunt of sorrowful regret
Painful parting I would endure thousands of times o’er
To hold her in my arms another single moment more
And were I faced with choosing to have never loved, or lost
I know that she was worth the price, no matter what the cost
Quid Pro Quo (2004)
Twelve feet from me she sits
Hair fatigued, stringing down in limp worn-out curls
Like the muckiest of mops
Amateurish ankle tats, red and green sunshine
A chain of vines, a dangling Celtic cross
A washed-out cardigan robin's egg blue
A floral paisley baby-doll top hiding floppy, bulbous tits
Faded camo pants and black flip-flops
She knows she's cool
Too too cool
Bitching to the bartender
About her DUI
It sucks I don't have my car, man
Tips at the restaurant are for shit
And my roommate is a bitch
Busting my balls about my guitar
Yeah I play at all hours
Man, she can't understand
It's my art, dude
Girl just don't have it in her soul
Not like I do, I breathe music, man
It's like air, dude, it's poetry
It's gotta be beautiful
I need some beauty in my life, man
She spies me from one corner of her eye
My image filters into her peripheral vision
Past the thick black plastic frame of her eyeglasses
And believing herself unseen
She sneers at my plainness
Curls her lip at my conventionality
Despises what she sees
As colorless words plod through her head
Words like vanilla
Words like water
Words like nothing
She rolls her eyes at the bartender
Silently mocking me
Unaware that she is a poem
Even as she composes me as one in her head
And that poetry isn't always the beauty in our lives, man
And that she has just become, for me
An ugly, dirty, sad, stupid poem
Hair fatigued, stringing down in limp worn-out curls
Like the muckiest of mops
Amateurish ankle tats, red and green sunshine
A chain of vines, a dangling Celtic cross
A washed-out cardigan robin's egg blue
A floral paisley baby-doll top hiding floppy, bulbous tits
Faded camo pants and black flip-flops
She knows she's cool
Too too cool
Bitching to the bartender
About her DUI
It sucks I don't have my car, man
Tips at the restaurant are for shit
And my roommate is a bitch
Busting my balls about my guitar
Yeah I play at all hours
Man, she can't understand
It's my art, dude
Girl just don't have it in her soul
Not like I do, I breathe music, man
It's like air, dude, it's poetry
It's gotta be beautiful
I need some beauty in my life, man
She spies me from one corner of her eye
My image filters into her peripheral vision
Past the thick black plastic frame of her eyeglasses
And believing herself unseen
She sneers at my plainness
Curls her lip at my conventionality
Despises what she sees
As colorless words plod through her head
Words like vanilla
Words like water
Words like nothing
She rolls her eyes at the bartender
Silently mocking me
Unaware that she is a poem
Even as she composes me as one in her head
And that poetry isn't always the beauty in our lives, man
And that she has just become, for me
An ugly, dirty, sad, stupid poem
Cassandra (1985)
You who denied your favors even to a god
One who had blessed you with such a gift
You have sealed your own fate
How could you not know what was to come?
He could only offer warmth, wisdom, love, light
And life enternal, elevating you
From your lowly human station
And placing you in the Pantheon
But you refused
Now you are a laughingstock
A foolish soothsayer
Sowing her folly hither and yon
You can see the doom and the despair
The war and the undoing
The misery and the malady
And you warn them
But they do not believe
No longer can you discern the proper road
Without credence, truth foretold is no better than a lie
You can see the future clearly, and you know
You alone may laugh in the end
But is indeed alone that you will laugh
One who had blessed you with such a gift
You have sealed your own fate
How could you not know what was to come?
He could only offer warmth, wisdom, love, light
And life enternal, elevating you
From your lowly human station
And placing you in the Pantheon
But you refused
Now you are a laughingstock
A foolish soothsayer
Sowing her folly hither and yon
You can see the doom and the despair
The war and the undoing
The misery and the malady
And you warn them
But they do not believe
No longer can you discern the proper road
Without credence, truth foretold is no better than a lie
You can see the future clearly, and you know
You alone may laugh in the end
But is indeed alone that you will laugh
Living the Dream (2009)
Memorial day weekend
Nine years ago we spent our holiday
Bailing this house out from a flood
Mud and muck wiped out years of treasures
Today, there is no trace of that cataclysm
All is dry and clean except the sky
Which is murky and threatening rain
Still, we hit the pool and play
Though we call it swimming,
We really only bob and splash
And the children have
Their floatees and water-guns
And see me as a human tower
To climb and knock down in their war
Time to dine inside
My brother says grace over the menu of fried everything
Fish, bread, taters, onions, chicken
Themselves fresh from their swimming
In southern grease so good, so good
As I scoop a second bowl of my sister’s famed potato salad
I realize the beauty that surrounds me
In these plain people that I hold so dear
Finding in them that precious irritation
That I would not trade for all the treasures of this world
Or the golden streets of the next
The humblest of pleasures coalesce
Seeing my mother hold her great-granddaughter
Playing cards with my nephews
Telling jokes with my father
Hugging my nieces
Reminiscing and remembering
When this life was just a dream
When we were all so young and accounted for
And when dreams counted for everything, and everything was the dream
Now everything means nothing and this is the dream
And it’s all ours
Nine years ago we spent our holiday
Bailing this house out from a flood
Mud and muck wiped out years of treasures
Today, there is no trace of that cataclysm
All is dry and clean except the sky
Which is murky and threatening rain
Still, we hit the pool and play
Though we call it swimming,
We really only bob and splash
And the children have
Their floatees and water-guns
And see me as a human tower
To climb and knock down in their war
Time to dine inside
My brother says grace over the menu of fried everything
Fish, bread, taters, onions, chicken
Themselves fresh from their swimming
In southern grease so good, so good
As I scoop a second bowl of my sister’s famed potato salad
I realize the beauty that surrounds me
In these plain people that I hold so dear
Finding in them that precious irritation
That I would not trade for all the treasures of this world
Or the golden streets of the next
The humblest of pleasures coalesce
Seeing my mother hold her great-granddaughter
Playing cards with my nephews
Telling jokes with my father
Hugging my nieces
Reminiscing and remembering
When this life was just a dream
When we were all so young and accounted for
And when dreams counted for everything, and everything was the dream
Now everything means nothing and this is the dream
And it’s all ours
Weather Report (1989)
Welcome to Marseilles
It’s raining today
This sunny Mediterranean seaport
Whose spry citizens are descended
From the strongest stock of Greek and Roman sailors
Is wet with the tears of God
And every face is bleak
As though their beloved sun
May never return
Addicts, all of them
They’d fare poorly in overcast Paris
Or foggy Brest
Or dismal Cherbourg with its musical umbrellas
Helios, whose light they crave and worship
Smiles upon them nearly daily
And when he wearily decides
For just one morning to abandon his chariot duty
And sleep in, allowing Zeus a tantrum with his
Mighty lightning and furious thunder
It is as though someone has snapped away
Their very life force
Holding them down
And stealing their breath
This town shrieks and laments in the rain
It cries and mourns and grieves under cover of cloud
And the heralded cold Mistral wind
Will sweep today out of the sky
And should bring us a bright, clear tomorrow
Massilia of old
Was rarely wet, I’m told
But now I’ve come to see
The rain may get to me
It’s raining today
This sunny Mediterranean seaport
Whose spry citizens are descended
From the strongest stock of Greek and Roman sailors
Is wet with the tears of God
And every face is bleak
As though their beloved sun
May never return
Addicts, all of them
They’d fare poorly in overcast Paris
Or foggy Brest
Or dismal Cherbourg with its musical umbrellas
Helios, whose light they crave and worship
Smiles upon them nearly daily
And when he wearily decides
For just one morning to abandon his chariot duty
And sleep in, allowing Zeus a tantrum with his
Mighty lightning and furious thunder
It is as though someone has snapped away
Their very life force
Holding them down
And stealing their breath
This town shrieks and laments in the rain
It cries and mourns and grieves under cover of cloud
And the heralded cold Mistral wind
Will sweep today out of the sky
And should bring us a bright, clear tomorrow
Massilia of old
Was rarely wet, I’m told
But now I’ve come to see
The rain may get to me
Revelations (2008)
With a simple sentence the tables turn
And I realize the arrogant deception
Of my long-considered advantage
Bound to you by invisible shackles
My chains heavy and chafing
To deny that you are in control now
Seems suddenly ludicrous
“Trust and let go,” I breathe inside
The cruel innocence of your question
Finds me precariously balanced
Between steely will
And the gauze of vulnerability
I clumsily stumble
And feel my restraints pull tighter
Yanking my equilibrium
And the acrobatic dance of my response begins
A spew of nonsense and tears
And I tumble
Chained to you
I am saved
And I realize the arrogant deception
Of my long-considered advantage
Bound to you by invisible shackles
My chains heavy and chafing
To deny that you are in control now
Seems suddenly ludicrous
“Trust and let go,” I breathe inside
The cruel innocence of your question
Finds me precariously balanced
Between steely will
And the gauze of vulnerability
I clumsily stumble
And feel my restraints pull tighter
Yanking my equilibrium
And the acrobatic dance of my response begins
A spew of nonsense and tears
And I tumble
Chained to you
I am saved
Pro Nobis Peccatoribus (2008)
Ten thousand pin-pricks pierce my skin
Push past my protection
As her casual farewell bleeds me to life
Slowly I rise
Too quickly
Time is terse and fleet
Parting passes
I stand solitary
Savoring the agony of when and how
So preferable to if
Will not, wish not
Waste not, want not
We knot ourselves up
In proverbs and parables
As we rush in
Where angels fear to dread
Treacherously transgressing
All we swore to hold sacred
Bathed in our own destiny
Replaying dirty history
Ever less innocent for naïvely
Not knowing how it ends
Still unrepentant
For the error of my youth
I battle now a fire long grown cold
Burning out of control but still
Too weak to take hold
And destroy with bold decision
A coldness now grown fiery
Brazen and audacious
I drop to my knees
And mutter prayers of paradox
Impiously impenitent
And petition
The merciful God of fools and sinners:
May untenable last
Unlikely remain
Insane make sense
Impossible affirm
Never again return
And forever fail
Amen
Push past my protection
As her casual farewell bleeds me to life
Slowly I rise
Too quickly
Time is terse and fleet
Parting passes
I stand solitary
Savoring the agony of when and how
So preferable to if
Will not, wish not
Waste not, want not
We knot ourselves up
In proverbs and parables
As we rush in
Where angels fear to dread
Treacherously transgressing
All we swore to hold sacred
Bathed in our own destiny
Replaying dirty history
Ever less innocent for naïvely
Not knowing how it ends
Still unrepentant
For the error of my youth
I battle now a fire long grown cold
Burning out of control but still
Too weak to take hold
And destroy with bold decision
A coldness now grown fiery
Brazen and audacious
I drop to my knees
And mutter prayers of paradox
Impiously impenitent
And petition
The merciful God of fools and sinners:
May untenable last
Unlikely remain
Insane make sense
Impossible affirm
Never again return
And forever fail
Amen
The Bawdy Schwa (1994)
As many others before her
The aged woman felt
Suddenly
Too tired to try
To be the woman
She was just a moment ago
She struggles with her self
Expresses her disgust
Through attempted joy
Feeling the tremble of
Irony
In her shriveling, knotted body
The bawdy schwa
Issues forth
Breathy from her soul
Down deeper
Than the thrill
Of her lover's heart
They lie
Naked
In truth
He is rejuvenated by her pain
She is betrayed by his ecstasy
The aged woman felt
Suddenly
Too tired to try
To be the woman
She was just a moment ago
She struggles with her self
Expresses her disgust
Through attempted joy
Feeling the tremble of
Irony
In her shriveling, knotted body
The bawdy schwa
Issues forth
Breathy from her soul
Down deeper
Than the thrill
Of her lover's heart
They lie
Naked
In truth
He is rejuvenated by her pain
She is betrayed by his ecstasy
At The Church Wall (1987)
And the old man stood there leaning against the church wall
He was thinking about her warm face
And how she had blue eyes
What eyes she had
So blue, so beautiful, and so blue
She danced like the wind
Warm blue wind like summertime
Dancing
And her eyes danced
As her hair blew in the wind
Her eyes blue
In the wind
And he stood against the church wall thinking
About her blue eyes dancing
She would dance for hours
Like the wind dancing on the lea
Dancing with her brown hair trailing
In the warm blue wind
And he thought about her
Standing by the church wall
Falling to the ground
Blue eyes dancing
Summer breezes blowing
Quiet whispers “I love you”
Whisper
Choir voices filled the chapel
Silence fell upon him
Heavy silence watching
Quiet whispers “I am going”
Blue eyes closing
Lying by the church wall quiet
Still blue eyes
And her eyes were blue
And danced
And he fell against the church wall
Angry
Listening to the warm wind
Dancing
Like her blue eyes always did
He was thinking about her warm face
And how she had blue eyes
What eyes she had
So blue, so beautiful, and so blue
She danced like the wind
Warm blue wind like summertime
Dancing
And her eyes danced
As her hair blew in the wind
Her eyes blue
In the wind
And he stood against the church wall thinking
About her blue eyes dancing
She would dance for hours
Like the wind dancing on the lea
Dancing with her brown hair trailing
In the warm blue wind
And he thought about her
Standing by the church wall
Falling to the ground
Blue eyes dancing
Summer breezes blowing
Quiet whispers “I love you”
Whisper
Choir voices filled the chapel
Silence fell upon him
Heavy silence watching
Quiet whispers “I am going”
Blue eyes closing
Lying by the church wall quiet
Still blue eyes
And her eyes were blue
And danced
And he fell against the church wall
Angry
Listening to the warm wind
Dancing
Like her blue eyes always did
Land (2009)
Alone, adrift
Batted by the currents
I bob and float against my will
This ocean is tempestuous
And fraught with hidden peril
Your placid beach just out of reach
On the horizon unattainable
As I desperately cling to my longing desire
To once again be pulled to the safety of your strand
I battle, tired of fighting
All but prepared to drown
Lured to the peace
Offered by the abyss of forfeit
But mine has been a lifelong odyssey
And I have sought your coast from so far away
Thrown by turns far off course
And now within measurable distance
Of your alluring shore
I long again to feel your sand beneath my feet
To walk assured of the stable rule of land
To know that I can guide my own path
Instead of allowing
The forces of time and tide
To wash me whither they will
I envisage walking with my head high
Breathing the salty air of the love in which I struggle
Without fear of losing my life
In the grip of its surging power
My feet planted in your terra firma
With the frothy breakers lapping gently at my toes
I remember those long ago walks along your beach
In watercolor postcard recollections
Of a time in which I mastered the pull of the sea
And frolicked on your shore
And bathed freely in your love
I am exhausted
So weary of fighting for precious air
Dispirited by the tantalizing vision of your seaboard
I beg in vain for rescue
Knowing that your warm sands
Cannot extend your reach to pull me to your solace
Or even beckon me closer
Fueled by fantasy alone
Strengthened in nothing but reverie
I stubbornly pray God for the fortitude to survive
Not to abandon my hope after such a long struggle
To find the courage in my thoughts of time past
To feed the dreams of a future in which
I can again stand
Swells are taking over
And I am nearly spent
Alone, adrift
I now must inhale one last time
And furiously swim
To land
Batted by the currents
I bob and float against my will
This ocean is tempestuous
And fraught with hidden peril
Your placid beach just out of reach
On the horizon unattainable
As I desperately cling to my longing desire
To once again be pulled to the safety of your strand
I battle, tired of fighting
All but prepared to drown
Lured to the peace
Offered by the abyss of forfeit
But mine has been a lifelong odyssey
And I have sought your coast from so far away
Thrown by turns far off course
And now within measurable distance
Of your alluring shore
I long again to feel your sand beneath my feet
To walk assured of the stable rule of land
To know that I can guide my own path
Instead of allowing
The forces of time and tide
To wash me whither they will
I envisage walking with my head high
Breathing the salty air of the love in which I struggle
Without fear of losing my life
In the grip of its surging power
My feet planted in your terra firma
With the frothy breakers lapping gently at my toes
I remember those long ago walks along your beach
In watercolor postcard recollections
Of a time in which I mastered the pull of the sea
And frolicked on your shore
And bathed freely in your love
I am exhausted
So weary of fighting for precious air
Dispirited by the tantalizing vision of your seaboard
I beg in vain for rescue
Knowing that your warm sands
Cannot extend your reach to pull me to your solace
Or even beckon me closer
Fueled by fantasy alone
Strengthened in nothing but reverie
I stubbornly pray God for the fortitude to survive
Not to abandon my hope after such a long struggle
To find the courage in my thoughts of time past
To feed the dreams of a future in which
I can again stand
Swells are taking over
And I am nearly spent
Alone, adrift
I now must inhale one last time
And furiously swim
To land
J'Accuse (1982)
If you could only see past your own indifference
You would know the beauty of the ordinary
The joy of the mundane
The pleasure of the routine
If you could only broaden your horizons
You would know the depth of our shallowness
The magic of our mediocrity
The pull of our repulsion
If you could only sink to our level
You would fawn over the prosaic as we do
Adore the banal, and
Find significance in the jejune
Such a kind offer, but I must decline
I’ll be the rarest of the humble breed
Who arrogantly refuse to bow down
To your pedestrian gods
Choosing instead to fly
Past your commonplace heaven
To a Valhalla
Of those who think
While you preen and adorn your empty head
You would know the beauty of the ordinary
The joy of the mundane
The pleasure of the routine
If you could only broaden your horizons
You would know the depth of our shallowness
The magic of our mediocrity
The pull of our repulsion
If you could only sink to our level
You would fawn over the prosaic as we do
Adore the banal, and
Find significance in the jejune
Such a kind offer, but I must decline
I’ll be the rarest of the humble breed
Who arrogantly refuse to bow down
To your pedestrian gods
Choosing instead to fly
Past your commonplace heaven
To a Valhalla
Of those who think
While you preen and adorn your empty head
Warm (1987)
Hands intertwined like the briar and the rose
Of some old English folktale
We walk silently through the woods
After a cool fall rain
The grey mist makes the crackling dead leaves of autumn
Beneath our feet
Soft and slick and wet
The cotton-white fog of a November day
Makes you shiver
So I hold you close
We stop walking and both sigh
The clouds of our breath combine and lose themselves
The mist and the fog
We see the last wren
Bolt from its perch
Blown by the sudden
Northwest breeze
The fog drifts between the pines
The stark white November fog
Surrounds the two of us
Warm
Of some old English folktale
We walk silently through the woods
After a cool fall rain
The grey mist makes the crackling dead leaves of autumn
Beneath our feet
Soft and slick and wet
The cotton-white fog of a November day
Makes you shiver
So I hold you close
We stop walking and both sigh
The clouds of our breath combine and lose themselves
The mist and the fog
We see the last wren
Bolt from its perch
Blown by the sudden
Northwest breeze
The fog drifts between the pines
The stark white November fog
Surrounds the two of us
Warm
Should Be Spring (1985)
Wee snowflakes linger like diamonds on daffodils
Each one a miracle forged by the hands of God’s tiniest minions
At play in the bleary vapor hanging just overhead
A fat-breasted robin ripe with unlaid eggs
Bounds with purpose and pecks at the hard frosty ground
Unsatisfied, she continues her patient search
The brilliant green blades of the tulips stand icy guard
Keeping cached their beckoning scarlet cups
Until a more welcoming climate evolves
Silver clouds in minuet on a palette of white
The deceptive brightness of the overcast
Pierces my eyes
And I shudder
As my breath escapes
In a conspicuous cloud
From my face
I pull at my scarf
Muttering a playful, unmeant curse
Reveling in guilty secret
At the cruel magnificence
Of what should be spring
Each one a miracle forged by the hands of God’s tiniest minions
At play in the bleary vapor hanging just overhead
A fat-breasted robin ripe with unlaid eggs
Bounds with purpose and pecks at the hard frosty ground
Unsatisfied, she continues her patient search
The brilliant green blades of the tulips stand icy guard
Keeping cached their beckoning scarlet cups
Until a more welcoming climate evolves
Silver clouds in minuet on a palette of white
The deceptive brightness of the overcast
Pierces my eyes
And I shudder
As my breath escapes
In a conspicuous cloud
From my face
I pull at my scarf
Muttering a playful, unmeant curse
Reveling in guilty secret
At the cruel magnificence
Of what should be spring
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