Heather Sager

Good Winter

My backyard fence cannot stop this season.
Like wildfire it spares no yard.

Across the street lurks the boarded-up house
of affluence. I pace my yard
like a caged panther.

By afternoon light, tired from the office,
I watch the road from my attic,
gaze over notebooks where I write
the thought-equations of my addled mind.

Summer, let the time of your splendor come, unleash me.

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