Imbalance

It is an unfair December
That feels so much like spring
And the snow melting
And the songs of birds
And confused crocuses bursting out into beautiful myriads of color
And instead of the pure cleansing drowning of my feelings in snow
I feel them all burbling up from their depths
And crowding out everything
Fighting for attention
Clambering over chairs and turning over tables,
And I squeeze into a tight little bundle
There is not enough cold to up the numbness.