the things i do when no one is looking

what worries me are the scars

that they leave behind

 

eventually protruding

from their nests

like young birds during spring

 

but they’re not here this time

 

the winter parades

marching constantly with heavy feet

heavy feet and black sleet

replacing the green

for thick old grey concrete

 

and the scars

i would carry forever

burning in the sun

uncovered

and touched by the light

bright red they turn

 

shook and eyes opened

saying

the end is not near

the awakening tasting

like sweetest fruit in summer

with the light shining on my face

scar free

and released