The blue spot fades to heartfelt red
as the sun broils my eyelids.
This is a hint of spring, even behind
the cool glass veil. The dogwood barks.
Cat o’ nine tails wag. Even a hint
of birdsong on the softening breeze.
Soon all will be green again,
and, if not well, at least warm.
There is, then, one good thing to cherish.