I remember the bliss of winter sun
only yesterday.
Now rain drums the ground and cold
grips me like a fever.
It’s so long ‘til summer.
The months ahead stretch
a torture rack
for my bloodless skin.
Without a little touch of solar heat
every day or two,
my misery is complete.
The thermostat does not compare.
I lose my point
in slushy thoughts.
Only the sun
can let my mind run free.

Why are my emotions enslaved
by this mercurial tyrant?
Why must I follow the quicksilver rise
and fall, as though my state may be read
by tiny numbers on a gauge?
Why am I so tied to the weather,
while others radiate with sunny smiles
in any conditions?

I wish I knew how to light
the fire inside,
to find my own source
independent of the season,
to create the energy I need
from fusion within,
to liberate myself from Sol.
My only relief is
I don’t have to live
in Sweden.

Australian writer, environmental activist, hang-gliding assistant & former sailor, journalist & clown. Debut poetry collection available now. www.emmabriggs.net

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