b a r b a r a  f l e t c h e r: other poems


Winter Sand

A sudden thaw in the middle of February
scorns gloves and hats, warms my hands
and cheeks with a strange and dusty
summer-scented wind. Sitting here
on the office steps, the pavement
seems wider than I can remember.
Asphalt and brown interlocking brick
stretches outward, open as sand before sea.

Snow banks have disintegrated, leaving
sidewalks powdered with fine beige granules.
I want to take off my shoes, warm toes
in the peculiar afternoon sun and walk across
the stretch of salt and sand, stop and wiggle
my toes in it -- make July come to feet.
Someone drives by in a car with the windows
down, music pounding the pavement, vibrating under my toes.
And it is summer
and the sand is exquisite.