It Begins

It begins —

This thing call Spring —

With sunshine and birdsong

Slowly infused into everything.

It begins with

Deep brown rivers gauged in viscous dirt roads,

As the frozen ground thaws and overflows.

I’ve never really loved the mud —

Trudging through the umber sludge,

But it’s a sign that something better’s on its way.

It isn’t here quite yet, 

This thing called Spring

But I heard the birds today and, well, that’s something.

A beginning.

 

Sunflower

Acer Sacharrum

VT

15 years old

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    Musings on a Lost Ring

    I found a ring I thought I’d lost

    in the bottom of my bag.

    I haven’t seen it since last spring —

    It’s funny, isn’t it?

    All these months,

    I thought it gone,

    all this time, I’ve just been

    carrying it.

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  • Poetry

    By Acer Sacharrum

    Please, don’t.

    Don’t. 

    Don’t you know? 

    Don’t you know what I mean? 

    Don’t you know what I mean when I say 

    something isn’t right something isn’t right something isn’t right 

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  • Poetry

    By Acer Sacharrum

    If

    I — 

    I could. 

    I could, love. 

    I could love you. 

    I could love you if… 


    I — 

    I wanted. 

    I wanted to. 

    I wanted to, love. 

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