spring pentimenti

6 below at 7:30 in the morning:
your cold says ‘winter,’ but your sun says ‘spring’.

clouds move in low, smoothly, steadily
white daubs on a light blue canvas
lit from the side by a pink-faced sun
but by 9:30 it’s washed over
with a fine light gray clay
but that first painting still lies underneath.
I see it in my mind.