Aimee Gaberseck Poems

In those first misty days shortly after the spring equinox, thirty-some degrees feels so good that you shed your winter layers and exult at the lightness of a hoodie as your only protection against the memory of frost stinging your skin.

The triumphant chorus of some hundred brave migrants pierces the long blank silence, enriching the crisp sterile air with their melodic voices and the promise of life again returning.
...