All that glitters is gold.
At least that’s what they tell us
and so by default, it’s what we know.
When the clouds hang low
and grace our presence with the threat of snow,
we close our eyes to spite the sun -
now hiding behind storms misunderstood.
We wait for winter to pass
and hope it doesn’t last past March.
Because we know that there is greener scenery
in the next season’s grass.
Grab tightly. Think lightly.
Imagine that we’ve jumped ahead to
the dusk of June;
and even warmer still: July’s moon.
Michigan lakes
glisten in August.
Michigan hearts
swell in harvest.
Michigan hands turn black and
freeze in refrigeration
in the first month’s
wintry blast.

Michigan hearts…

beat slower…

with frigid lovers.

All that glitters is gold
unless those sparkling hearts turn cold,
then we’re just…