1.4K
It’s June
Breezy and sixty – like me
the neighbors have their wood stove on
the chimes are beating furiously
their tune
I huddle inside my sweatshirt
and try
to think up a seasonal mind
October or November is
today
whipping the warmth away
infusing fall’s blustery tones
on budded spring’s beauty grown.
I give up, and retreat back inside
listen to the wind cry,
nurse my wounded spring….