by Madeleine 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. 

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