The snow recedes
slowly recoils
sixty degrees of sunshine, an unexpected attack on such a sure freeze

withdraw all troops
leave behind only the dead














sludge
to sink into the seeds that wait for spring

I told myself I could never write a poem about nature cause it never made me feel nothin
But when the snow peels back
dying, dying
in the face of unwarranted sunshine's heat in December
and the snow man withers
decapitated
a scarf and one arm

I feel like him
I got two arms and a head
but I sure do feel like him

Snow withdraws further back
Every line of defense succumbs to the sun
to it's knees and to its face
to the soil
nothing left
sopping mud
dead leaves
nothing to enjoy this sun
nothing but me