Effing Love Poems: A Cold Patience

My jacket is thin against

the cold. Other times,

it’s a kind of magic:
heavy in autumn after a summer
of naked sunburnt arms,
and then so light in spring
once we’ve put away
the down coats,
the scarves and ski jackets.

A late snow killed all
the crocus. The forsythias
are confused. I want to
ask you to dig out the
heavy coats and wool–
it seems we cleaned for
spring too soon.

But I have faith
in summer.
Please have faith in me. 

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