seasons

Spring sleeplessness

It’s winter-has-warmed-to-spring insomnia —
you don’t want to stay up late
but the warm-cool air
coming in through the windows
is a seasonal aphrodisiac
too strong to deny —

      the quiet of the dark
      the rustling of the leaves
      the glow of the moon —

How can anyone sleep
with a breeze like that?
blowing in all the defrosted desire
that froze last November,
caressing you with earthy invitations
and fresh green scents
that make you remember
your primalness —

Why even bother turning in?
no dream will be as good
as this open-window wakefulness,
no rest worth missing
weather this wonderful —

So strip down to your skivvies
and skip the sleep —
      it’s Spring!

Terri Guillemets

March Night

I shook off the house like a hooded cape,
And came out, free, into the March-blown street…
At a lash of the gale, at a sight of the cloud-tattered skies,
As a coat discarded,
I shook off civilization
And became wild,
And my naked soul raced the clouds,
And the flavor of the Earth was fresh and primitive…

—James Oppenheim (1882–1932), “March Night,” War and Laughter, 1916