winter’s end in the age of plague

a warm, golden

yellow

rippling blue

blue-yellow light

danced like a sprite

off the dulled, splintered

winter-worn window panes,

as stubbornly they opened

one by one,

onto the parched, dusty rooms

anxious

to gulp in the shimmer

& abundance of a misty

perfumed concoction

of salty

green grass

lilac & oxygen,

they filled brimming

with the sustenance

of springtime promises:

long, dark

withering winters

now but

distant

memories

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