Finding Whimsey After Winter

The momentum of whimsey
is dancing in these warm breezes
and wander like osmosis in and out
of my cells.

Winter traipses away
from my memory like blood washed
with warm water from bandages
and wounds that have been left
covered for far too long.

Healing is found in the earth
and in the whistle found at the wetting
of my parched and cracking lips.

It is enough to know
the song is still something
to be shared.