the year spring never came

if we had paid attention to the signs that long, wet
winter, we might have known that spring would never
come, even though nature took her cues from the
moon and sun, as remnants of frosting melted and gentle
rain drenched the dormant soil, seeds sprouted toward
the warmth, toward the light; soon clusters of creeping
buttercups, henbits, chickweed, wild violets, dandelions
and daffodils lulled us into believing that it was
spring, but I tell you, spring never came that year,
the world stopped spinning, life stopped living as
we peered at each other from across alley ways and live
chat screens, winter held fast as the reaper jumped
season mowing us down with his sickle, a harvest
of untouchables, legions of them stacked floor to
ceiling on ice, mourners left with nothing to show
for their sorrow…no, spring never came that year,
summer too, lost her luster to empty streets, abandoned
subways, beaches, and empty watering holes where
masked ghosts hurried about never mingling, mercifully
autumn stepped in bidding us to let go, let go, let go, let go…
as another winter loomed darker still, no mention of spring

~kat

For NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo Challenge Day 30: write a poem about something that returns.