BETWEEN TWO MOUNTAINS

Caught

Between two mountains,
the Old and the New.

Caught between the seasons,
summer's rush to escape humidity
and winter's dash to avoid blizzards.

We sit

still

waiting

for this confined feeling to slither away
off our shoulders, out our fingertips.
We remember to glance to the west
when it's just the right time of day
to catch that color in the clouds,
that color that warms
our whole selves.


And then
it's spring.

Escape plans
and baby birds
are hatched.

Windows
reopened.