February Burlington Lament

Oh, smallest hint of spring in the wayward currents,

pause for awhile in our brick and winter-battered town,

light upon branches with the softest breath of warmth and hazy sun, 

so that we might endure the grim finality of these grayest months,

and how they strike out with frozen fury at the houses and the street-corners 

where we pile space-heaters and blankets 

as battlements against the fierce young year.

Earliest sign of approaching gentler seasons, 

walk with us through the black pine and sumac trail, 

and stir them to sing with your yellow-green fingertips; 

this winter's been so cold, we seek your kind reprieve,

so cast down your lot in our little city, 

that we might emerge from paralyzed sleep once more.