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.