Spring is the saddest season

Spring is the saddest season
winter is famously hard to shake
pulls you with the hunger of a lover
under covers, under ground
lightness is loneliness first

spring is the coldest season,
the promise of something never
kept anybody warm, your arms alone
and bare, until something grows
only barren earth may welcome you.

endings are all gravity, they write themselves
falling in due course, with you barely
lifting a finger, you may sleep knowing
that lips will fade, eyes will close,
all burning will one day extinguish itself

I never learned how to start a fire
at all never mind on a wet morning in April,
cold in my garden, listening to birdsong
panning for instructions, or warmth
or even the resilience of short lifespans
year after year, hatching.