Saturday, April 14, 2012


After the storm, I’m unprepared

for the light. It’s bright and my eyes

hurt. I want to wrap myself in a gray

blanket of clouds, read in bed,

light the fire in the fireplace.

Drink hot drinks.

But now, the pressure of daylight

saying—come, come to me, move

quickly under this sun, work

your body as it’s never been worked.

Plant more seedlings, climb on a bicycle,

dig into the soil and put seeds in the ground,

so you’ll have flowers all summer.

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