The sun is beating down 
The wind is blowing
The leaves are swaying 
flashing brilliant beautiful illuminated greens 
The red prickly pears are in full bloom
It is a beautiful day.  

Inside, it is black and grey and cold.
The angst of unfulfilled dreams.
The anguish of unrequited love.
This bitterness, this resentment
is locked in huge icebergs of darkness.

But
When I sing off-key tunes at the top of my lungs
or lead the addling muddling trains of thought
on a path of fruition
or gulp down a beautiful day
do these icebergs thaw.
Little by little.

And slowly, I let the spring come in.