June and December

There can be steely one-shade days

That leak through scarf, coat, and sweater

Days that pale and pull you apart, make bones

Ache, bitter

If there are sometimes sherbet skies

That melt down to star-sprinkled night

Nights that purr and sweep against you, at once

Black, bright

There can be too-hot noons

That hang on impossibly long, and bite

If there are perfect more-than-pecks, under wintry trees in

White lights