Hope Tomorrow

Where we live spring comes early

Trees in bloom when the northern country

is covered in snow

A windy fitful day in winter

charging toward the Ides of May

The climate now is cling to splinters

We hold hands while we work and play

and hope tomorrow is a sunny day

Where we live men are women

Women are teenage boys

and everyone wants to look like them,

but be like men

Rubens would have loved you

and painted you that way

With your pen and paper,

paying quiet attention to a lady with a plastic face

So thin, so thin she might blow away...