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My hands are numb and yet the sun is bright.
It’s early spring when death becomes alive.
Crows caw, geese honk and the mallards quack at
The pond. The ice is gone but at the back
Of the barn there still was snow to be found
Looking just like white flowers on the ground.
March and April are my favorite time.
Cold youth thinking only of itself smiles
As attractive as the photos of my
Parents, young sailor and his happy bride
Who has grown old and struggles up the steps
I slowly rise behind, waiting to step
Into the kitchen which is warm unlike
The waking yard outside stabbed with wild chives.
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Drawing by Akram
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