Work Text:
March is the first possible moment
When the mountain begins to thaw.
While most of us wait until April,
my heartstrings tug me South.
Not because I love the South;
I like neither the heat nor toil,
Summers there boil one alive.
Sometimes I envy your light silks
For the way they let you breathe
And shimmer in that southern sun
Breathtaking.
I do not like the South, but the South has you
So I love it.
And every time I go back down the mountain
I look forward to that fated spring encounter
I leave behind the hearth of comfort
Destination set: the heart of home.