Yesterday, the high was 71 degrees.

[novapsyche]

This morning, there's snow on the ground.

To honor this occasion, I repost "The Cruellest Month":

The Cruellest Month


Sparrows speak spiritedly for one
full minute, then silence themselves.

It's tax day. My period has come
a week early, and something in my mouth
tastes like blood. A tooth
has cracked like an acorn, spilling
premature fruit into the earthen
floor of my mouth. Outside,

music floats through air like smoke
as families barbecue pork on ageing
terraces, hickory pricking the nose.
Skins brown in constant sun, absorbing
filaments of radiation. Tomorrow,
the threat of freezing rain.