Last winter days with small shivers
of the morning fog
of the boiling coffee
of the ocean tide
that the wind whispered to me
that it smells like spring
of the geranium bathed in the last snow
of the fish in the bird and reptile store
of the grape leaves in bud
of the radiance in my daughter’s smile
when she happily agreed
to give her long hair
to a child with cancer
with meaningful shivers
through the winter days
we will wait for spring