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. 


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