some thoughts on spring
sometimes, it can be hell
to live in a place
where the weather is always happy.
where everyone exclaims over
how glorious that sunset was.
and that one.
and that one.
and don't even get me started on the sunsets.
i mean, have you ever?!?
who knew you could grow bored
of technicolor miracles
in picture-perfect skies?
become so easily ungrateful
for the beauty you never quite earned?
it's just so gratuitous, this splendor.
where i come from,
people are generally quietly miserable
or loudly despondent.
did you see the rain today?
or the day before?
or the day before that?
don't even get me started on the weather reports.
i mean, can you even?!?
we walk around, umbrella-less,
and are surprised to be damp
every time.
it's so predictable, this seasonal misery.
but.
in exchange,
we know that sunlight costs us something.
spring stops the complaints rising in our throats.
cherry blossoms become their own form of praise.
crocuses are fragile hallelujahs
to the god we figured left us
when the rains came.
the land of the always sunny
is a gift, to be sure.
but a heavy one for a girl
used to being soaked in the mists of sorrow,
accompanied perpetually by grey skies.
but people can acclimate
to all kinds of weather.
which is only partially metaphor.
sometimes, though,
i'd swap all the bright clouds of Magritte
and the suns of Van Gogh
for one lone cherry tree
in spring,
right before the storms begin,
right after the complaints
died on our lips.
don't even get me started on the apple blossoms.
i mean, can you even?
