The light is changing,
the sky a different blue.
I sense spring coming.
I write of words and
weather, for they surround me,
and make up my world.
And I write to shield
myself, my soul, from feeling
too much, too deeply.
To write poems of
my pain and joy, of my hopes,
is too much to bear.
Is this cowardice,
to hide from the world, instead
of living in it?
Of this I know true:
there are changes in the air.
Maybe for me, too.
© The Lightning Tower, 2020