Through plague and
purifying smoke
the lax drag on,
the proud puff chests.

some have heated seats.
They cut back on their meat
and wean their hunger with milk
made from beans.

Wise counsel suggests
that crocus break soil
despite the cold wind.

Jut your chins. Jut your chins!
The day is yours.

In sooty rooms
the educated brood,
the papers pile,
the poems mold.
Wake ears hear the goings on,
the treble static of patrons with thin pride
buying bottles tableside
down the street from a shut library.
Wise counsel suggests
that the prudent cut their wine
with tap water and contaminants
easing the disease
so it can feed in peace.

grass blades grow erect
songbirds grow bolder,
grey snow gives way
to new life.

Precious now,
as we make last arrangements
for the changes.

Ω