A May Serenade

Winter punched me in the gut,

and spat me out in May.

Slithered me to bed

still not to sleep —

the snow,

and memories thereof,

lived rent free in a mind

frightened,

shambled.

This —

until truth paid bills

until tea soured

until kefir ripened

until water filled —

mountain streams

and fields

and cups

and lawns.

So I slept through spring,

rushed towards the sun,

and cleaned my rooms

for June to form

its solstice fruits

to sweeten days

and dreams.

- Afton Light, 2022