Short Stroll in Early Spring

The sun
flickers on hard and
takes over my eyes.
The sound of a bird
is rude
like an interruption.
I blast through the street
and the brief shadow
of a cloud is a pause.
The wind stirs frights
that come from movies.
My eyes fill with
tearful smears. The
street motion blurs.
Not cold
but I worry about
my heart.