When the air is hinting

By -
The blossom is here,
defrosting minds in puffs
but the sky, its breath, can't decide
how it wants us to feel.

Or else the tease 
is the season —

equidistant
from chilled solitary unchange,
snow-bandaged thoughts 
and
fever-still grass, hearing
messages of the future 
on forked feet.



LJ Ireton, 2026


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