Seasons

Tepid sun of a tardy sunrise
before, you came in spring, now a pale winter
pastel colors of each home,
and the smiles that I imagine around my throat, warming up
my mornings,
between the excitement of a beginning and the
nerve of venture;

curtains that open
to the goosebumps of my skin
and a voice speaking foreign languages
between swift arms, now acting as my feet,
when the rain claps on the outside, over us,
cleaning my thirst,
dryness of all

cold rain of winter, or spring,
rain, that lets us grow