5/27/11

The windows are open,

The heat of the day,

Is carried on breezes and transferred away,

As warm currents cleanse settled cobwebs and dust,

Which hold the stale imprint of long winter months.

The shadows are broken,

By gold, supple, rays.

Dark corners, forgotten, are brightly displayed,

As birdsong erupts through the wind’s gentle gusts,

Restoring the weary to temperance and trust.