It must be the springtime coming in.

After frantic months of juggling, and all the false starts and disruptions, scrambling from thing to thing and falling,

After dark months stuck in a sickness trap,
Blood and mania, sleep and static.

The dark days of the year
Sun stuck, frozen underneath gray water.
Naked trees all blacked boughs,
My snowy mind, so full of white.
Scarlet stains on everything.

I thought red was my only color.
Screaming red tinging dark dreams.
Bleeding red soaking the sheets.

I woke up today to the doors all open.
buds disturb the earth unfreezing
robins sing in the garden.
A quiet green I had forgotten
tiptoed in to kiss my face.
Cotton blue whispering me awake.
Robins with orange to remind me of flying.
I head south soon.
Take wing again,
and I think, when I come home,
it'll be all in rainbows.