slip and slide of ice
cracks beneath newfound sun
feet no longer scrambling
to avoid the fall
 
now rich mud of March
pokes through
streams meandering with cheerful indolence
no need to slink straight through snow
 
and charcoal nights are replaced
by the lush lavender
evening chill—but not coldness
caressing me
a sly crescent smiles
 
and no more huddling
in dust-colored rooms that reek of onions
and musk—where lights have died
no more constant surrender to electronic cells
 
electronic cell conspires with buzz
but I slam another door and spring
out onto roads
light and shadow shifting with balance
 
Ponderosas swaying, bending,
twisting with dance
never breaking                 


© by Yash Seyedbagheri.
Used with the author’s permission.