This bipolar late winter weather
is so confusing that the birds
return as quickly as the flowers
that try to bloom early.

The sun merges with the horizon.
Until, orange rays give way
to light blue.
Then that hue
gives into a darker view.

At night the lamplights
wear rainbow halos
that signify
the function of
my tired eyes.

While all other trees
are bereft of leaves
the conifers confer
their prickly beauty upon me;
Scratching my skin
only as fiercely
as I press in
to their personal space.

Always moving forward
and off at an awkward angle
I pursue the white light
half of the moon
that makes a Cheshire grin.
The high school windows
across the street
reflect strange distortions
back at me
as I walk the parking lot
watching the darker shade
within my shadow.
I slink up onto
the sidewalk
that is a gray portrait
of its pock marked past.

At last, I come in from the outside
losing what’s left of the bright night
and nature’s musical life.
I walk the sterile colorless corridors
that cut and cross to nowhere,
while my spirit yearns
to return to
the outside world I was
just describing for you.