Everything is frozen this morning, but the sky is clear
An orange creamsicle sunrise through the mist
Ice cream colors reminding me of the popsicles our fruits have become

The grass lies dead in colors unfamiliar
Slipping students talk about classes and television
But my parents' nighttime words ring clearer in my ears

My nose burns and bleeds the color of my cheeks
The color of cherries still unseen from the trees
Adults whisper that they might not come this year

The lawn cracks under my sneakers like my lips
It hasn't rained in a month
And three months before that