Spring has come with howling winds
and enough rain to fill my basement twice,
but there are still sunny days.
Even with the lifeless-leafless trees,
the crows still come to nest
on the bare branches the frost left behind.
In the center of my yard,
he sits starring straight up at the sky
as if he's never before seen a sunny sky.
Although I can't explain why,
its light is oddly wounding to me.
Is it the guilt of past spring seasons
that have come creeping upon me?
Does its disgrace pull me back
to an old emotional state?
I wish I could enjoy this season
as much as the rest,
but for now I'm stuck with lifeless trees
and enough rain to fill my basement twice.