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!