on buses shuttling
through green hills
I got my frost
and bloomed
my skin did not peel
merely suffered
the ephemeral pinking
that comes with north wind
I wait for my shoulders
to become dusted
as I wonder at
medieval manors.
victoriana is a comfort
it’s leveled foundations and
symmetrical spaces
remind me of home
for now, I stare at clouds and
wait for the weather’s change.