A spring wind builds
and snow cedes it’s paltry warmth
from street corners and houses
to those which need it now.

Birds return fitful of song
and green pushes deftly
through thawing dirt
as couples sip coffee from cozy chairs
watching through windows
the slow tide of spring
enter their lives again,
talking of books
and each other.

But love does not migrate;
it only comes, or goes.

It goes.