Friday, March 11, 2022

The Weakening Week, On Fleek

Winter doesn't know what to do with itself 
As it stumbles along the dunes
And moves the volleyballs from reaching hands.

The waves, too, seem intent
On disregarding its pleas,
Save a beard of Father Time
Dissolving listlessly.

Every record is a history
That cannot overcome the buds of spring.
The vehicles are spinning now,
There's no hope we will learn,

By which we mean remember.