After all this time I've been
waiting for you,
there must be something
I forgot to do, but
I cannot remember.
Now, the birds say
the season is new;
finally
the one long night is melting,
and the light
has a temperate,
compassionate weight.
Even on the darkened
side of the street, that filthy
clot of ice
is dissipating—but I hate to see
how it leaves
in its wake a lot of debris
from the previous December.
