Feb. 4th

by G.T.

Daylight begs for [shots fired] 2:23pm*


Second attempt:


Daylight reveals the salt of raindrops
dried onto my window-frames,
this most Monday of Saturdays
endured in months. Remember how warm
it had been
since December?

Had to be a tempest though.

Done broke the crisp we danced on
through January.
You had revived the green patina of frozen lawns
before fooling me back into Winter.


*I was sidetracked by four gun shots from across the street. No one appeared to be harmed. A crowd of six, maybe seven people scurried away. None of them ran as fast as I’d expect anyone to run following a bevy of gunfire, but it is cold outside and everyone is bundled up in coats and hats and scarves. Was it worth mentioning? Perhaps not, but I seriously added the “shots fired” immediately following the interruption, before I peered out of the window and watched the brief pandemonium unfold.
Also, it’s probably more interesting than the origin of this furtive poem, and even more likely than the writing itself.