beginning of summer

the cold has left, but it remains in the gale that passes by my window

the gray of the skies has bled into the palest blue

the sun has escaped its embrace in the clouds

the world just barely warm enough to walk under tree shade

their branches budding with pastel blooms and greener leaves

the spray of moringa over tank top clad, sunburned arms

begin clear mornings under the pleasant gift of the march month. 

they speak of the coming summer, the sun only getting brighter

and in my crayon-colored sunlit room

the call of summer surrounds me with the possibility

of warmer skies, of careful breeze, of new life

the possibility of change and new beginnings

and of happiness from what was left behind.