Daylight

The sun barely grazes the sky,
Flickers of fire through cold cracks,
A distant burn, like the sting of old memories,
Glitches that smell like smoke and sweat—
Winter still clings to the bones,
But daylight’s creeping,
Like a lover you don’t trust,
Slow and relentless,
Lighting the way for what comes next.
The earth groans under the weight of it,
A cycle, a thirst—
Spring’s not gentle,
But it’s coming,
And you’ll feel it in your skin,
In the heat that cuts through the frost.

Serezha Galkin