Seasonal Affective Disorder
Why not something less clinical,
like the sunset blues?
or perhaps, rather, winter’s spell?
Till autumn recalls April, dues
are paid in sunshine,
a loss that lights the shortened fuse,
turning kin into things unkind,
thoughts to puddled mud.
Watch a grandfather clock unwind
until one’s sense of bad and good
as his or her shifting mood,
where nothing makes an impression,
huddled under cover,
but this dissembling depression
over the life of friend and lover,
waiting for the swell
of spring, when hell freezes over.
Green Bay, Wisconsin
Taken wihout permission from Journal of the American Medical Association, 2009, Volume 301(2)