Lauren Stern
those lumbering dinosaurs of winter,
always made my heart thump and twist
as they rumbled by me,
a quivering pedestrian perched anxiously
at the edge of the road.
Now that they have gone,
Spring asserts itself timorously -
not the lamb of fleecy clouds
but the ram of fleeing winter,
dragging its feet,
seen in the everywhere dirty snow.
But today cymbals crash:
it hits a loud 40¡ in the sunshine
and we shuck off our coats in the street,
laughing at our newfound nakedness,
the light-as-air feeling of five pounds less.
Still we see the scars of winter
in fallen trees, cracking ice-sheathed lakes.
The dinosaurs of winter left their bones,
grabbing the roads with desperate stakes,
rending the pavement in protest of their forced departure.
Water runs over it, through it,
softening crevices into creeks.
Lauren Stern a licensed Massage Therapist as well as a recent transfer to the English program at SUNY Fredonia. She has a passion for off-beat and foreign films, dark chocolate, and the innate beauty of words.