Light in the Time of Daffodils


time and the ticking clock           is it sunrise
sunset           indirect light,   indistinct,   vague
eye beholds through lens of clouded mind     heart
frosted still with ravages of winter   .  .  .
faux summer blows from forced furnace,     dead warmth
limp in the arid strangle of stale air
bottled inside long months,      time indeterminate
interminable as winter tortured
hints of spring one sunny day in thirteen
crowns another fortnight besieged and cold

time and the ticking clock           is it daylight
or false moon streetlamp serenading spring
return, oh fair daughter Persephone,
coax again the world to life and glory!

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