There is no snow, no wintry blast
this year the sun
seems beholden to no one
is determined keep shining on day…
after day…
after day…
At first it was fun
no regard for clothing
soak up, like a reptile, sunlight
as if powered by solar only.
Lately though
a disquiet has entered
as the blue skies become a fact
as the plants in the garden droop
like commoners before the mighty king.
Where is the frost on the grass
rain that freezes fingertips
wind chilly, truthfully bending the head down
forcing the chest to brace, the legs to strive?
Where is the mud, the overflow, the rage?
Sunlight is best after a night
warmth a comfort when it has been cold.
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