An open window—

Is that really all I need?

A gentle breeze filtering in

And cooling the warm room—

Is this all one needs

To feel that summer is on its way?

Is it perhaps, though,

The practically sparkling sky

And the sweetly humid air

That fills my winter-ravaged lungs?

Yet these clouds come and go,

The dusty days with them.

The sand that coats my windows—

These are only testaments to the month,

To the desert winds kicking up

And spreading yellow smog in our directions,

Slowing the heat down.

But when the clouds disperse

And the sun fills the sky with utter

Blue and warmth,

We melt in the heat,

Melt in this March storm.

And the sun rises high, pleased

By equinoxes and clock changes,

Lending the birds a springtime hand.

So I open my window and let the battle continue—

Winter, spring, or summer.

Only the breeze gets to choose.


March 26th