by Madeline Busse
Streets stained white with salt
Like bleached desert bones
Nakedly reflect cold light,
Bordering grass brown from snow now gone.
On my walk to class, the sun emerges:
The wind still slices, but the sky is blue
Windows once grey glow with midmorning
Stone walls catch rays and become warm to sit on.
I read a line that said it’s easy to believe in God
When you’re feeling fit and the sun is shining
I admit something about the sun turns me to the Son
Warm light conveys remembrance of an era of innocence
The first day of spring is a taste of Eden
Eyes photosynthesize, and I know the light is as good as it is warm.