January, Mother's temper

Twenty-five below zero has brought

six-inch snow;

was only days ago, days later,

it rains;

thirty-seven degrees, warm breath of

impatient spring. 

Who says only human can display uneven temper;
Mother startles us with hers. We only pray
she plays benign. Or should we say we 
check on our habit provoking her; we've done enough.

Listen to the cracking, artic ice in the January rain;

sea of the jagged pieces ice; bleeding polar bear.

The red setting sun shudders; echoes in our heart.
We whisper to the sun: we try hard.
January rain sobs, silent cry;
we listen, listen more.

Mother begs: dig out the muscle in the cove
of your heart.

©Byung A. Fallgren