Winter

Today, the window panes were warm.
The bright, new sun shone defiantly onto the glass.
I pressed my palms onto the surface and
Pushed the frames up.
“Winter,” I called into the warm breath of air,
“Is that you?”
“Yes,” the wind whispered onto my cheeks and eyes.
“Today,” she said, “I am tired. Have your sun
And your snow and your doves and crocuses
Together today.”
And I ran barefoot in the yard.