early spring is the shadow of summer
it is inconsistent
and subject to a random snow
it fears commitment to the sun
buds on the branches
hang shyly in the balance
how i need your summertime
to shine on me
but if ever the skies
refuse to rain
don’t scorch me
in the drought
and come december
don’t leave me
forsake the passage of time
©A. D. Joyce, 2018
