The wet streets surprise her.
Limp leaves, thawed earth, and the
silent
tips of mushrooms
impregnate each blustery breeze.

She staggers, open-mouthed.
The bright spread of sky devours
the white, peeling ceiling of her room;
The roving, sonorous wind drowns
the thin hisses of her humidifier.

This time last year there were blizzards,
deep and ancient:
today come floods and tornadoes
and streets slick with rain.
The sky glows blankets of clouds,
the streets strange golden with sidelight from the winter sun.

Winds warmer than recorded time
Frenetically fondle her hair, her body.
She blinks, fingering the Kleenex still in her pocket
And thinks how different this world is, how different

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