False Spring

“False Spring”

By Joseph Hesch

The sun is hanging higher, longer

each day, and I am again craving

the warm light of love I feared

lost over the near-death of our winter.

Encouraged by the shining face she

showed me, I ventured into the field,

its winter-woven cover frayed to vapor,

the dry warp of autumn left behind.

Looking into her hazy brilliance,

I shivered in chill despair

and watched her once again run away

from arms that coveted her light and warmth.

Lowering my eyes, I dropped my gaze

to the ground and saw it land, freezing,

on the first thread of vernal weft–

its hope, as mine, stillborn by false spring.