An Open Letter To Spring

An Open Letter to Spring 2012

It was 83 degrees on the 10th day of you

I have to say maybe you’re overcompensating

For the earthworm holocausts

The ankles

That swell around attacks

From tiny vampires

The ruckus

Of liquid tap shoes

On roofs and windows

I don’t mean to offend

But I’ve come to expect a certain appearance

I don’t know that I would recognize you

In a sweater

You don’t need to try so hard

Your tragedies are no hurricanes

Don’t pluck your eyebrows

Into obtuse angles

Your archaic breath

And tender disasters

Are how we teach our new borns

How to be strong


Slowly

You are the first baby step

Half my childhood

Rests in your pages

The world looks newest in your arms

Please don’t be jealous

Don’t look to summer for inspiration

And think you are not the warmth we’ve been looking for

Don’t hold yourself to a winter evening

And deem yourself unclean next to the fallen snow

Death by dehydration or drowning

Is just as permanent

You are the mid point

The exhale

The afterglow

In this world of smaller beings

We teach each other

To manicure our bodies into like shades

To reshape ourselves

Into one another

Like if we couldn’t tell the difference

We couldn’t judge perfection

So I know you might look

Down on us lesser creatures

Perhaps we don’t understand

The pressures that your blue skies

Are always facing

Maybe we are just a little too much like you

To show you how to stand apart

But the perfect day Is 67 and sunny

And if you change

The other moments

Will have nothing to aspire to

So rock us with rain

Create concerts of creatures

Calling out for one another

As the sun breaks

Against the edge of the earth

Reach for the ruckus of chills

On arms that bathe in your dusk

Take us with you

In your moments of self doubt

Lay us down

In what you spill

In sunsets and flower petals

In dewed grass

And butterflied breezes

You are the beautiful mess

We aspire to be your kind

Of disaster.