Being grateful about their move
Is a coin that bares guilt on the other side
I can really see the sun today, bright
April’s cry “Make-no-mistake I am still Winter!
In the north the icy, icy wind chills straight
Through Spring.”
Hollered after my roots as they landed
Here out west, where the sky stretched
For more miles than it even existed.
And that is where all the gratefulness
Poured from.
Our own personal ray of sunlight
Warming off the dark of the sky
“This is just an after thought,” said April
“But you can bet I have zapped your tree buds.”
I turn my head to see, hair whipping my face
With a sting
“She can’t know yet.” I whisper…
“We may still have fruit.”

Of course all of this is related to
On some scale of Winter to Fall
Your crazy meter goes shaky and breaks
He was left by the bath with a pile
Of cigarettes that took over the whole
Of a white glass mixing bowl so many
Still fell to the wood floor, warped beneath.
So many ashes will give you a heart attack
That is the guilt side.
A hoarders cave and his ghost and
All the retellings of his best REM
I exist because he did.
Sitting in the west with those who raised me.
Tonight a transformer explodes
And all the guilt and gratefulness merge
To one side of the cold dark tease that
Is April.