Vermillion Sonnet

Vermillion shivers even into spring
And I sink lower under quilts and such
Dreaming of what summer might up and bring
Of beach and hammocks and the sun’s hot touch
The wind howls mournfully and the ice forms
Whilst I pretend to sip porch beers with my friends
I plug my ears to drown out the winter storms
And time travel forward to winters’ ends
Platz and sand and heat – and baseball; why not?
Anything that stands for a season’s change
I’ll ride my bike down winding streets forgot
Donning skorts however plaid, howe’er strange 

We’ll take our kites up Spirit Mound’s steep rise
And summer breeze will carry summer sighs 

When I was young I always missed summer
When Vermillion was so quiet, so still
And now to know her secrets is a thrill
And waiting for her to come, a bummer
The shows I’m watching now make me dumber
Sorry Netflix, we’ve had enough of chill
And tho I love soup, I’ve had my fill
In false spring, winters numbness turns numb-er 

Is this why in April poetry flows?
Melancholy month, promises unkept?
Cold winter is the perfect time for prose
Under cozy woolen words, stories slept
But now my feelings half thaw, distress shows
From days I read the forecast and then wept