New Year's

That day even the building lounged, inert--
pressed flat to the ground by the sheer weight
of sun.  In corners of shadows, snowflakes stung

the maple tree that had never felt frost,
awakened sap to thicken the veins with red
leaves and goldenrod, sugar made of fall.

I waited for rain natives promised
would bring winter days, laden by clouds.
Then, only then, could spring bring back sailing

to the lake, oranges among the leaves, sprinklers
filming the grass beneath the citron moon.
Noons slid by, but the sky parched cloudless blue,

syrup sweetened the bark of the maple
and tasted faintly like ripe oranges.
The air blew weather to earth uncensored

by our daily platitudes, we who speak
of rhythms and jet streams, and El Nino
who trails strange heat across the sea.

back to Departure:
Original Poems by Kelly Vaughan

by Kelly Vaughan
March, 1997