Winter Sun

Decades ago, when I first arrived here, people 
wouldn't stop talking about the volcano 

that had just erupted, tearing a seam 
in the atmosphere. Thanks to your volcano,

they said, we'll probably have the coldest winter. 
Here in the south, it's freezing but there isn't 

any snow. The billows still billow at the shore. 
Spangles of light filter through marsh grass 

and pine, falling through windows to make 
swatches on the floor. I've just learned the name 

for this warmth of the sun in winter: apricity. 
Where I grew up, I knew only two  seasons, rainy 

and dry. I don't know the name for the warmth 
of the sun there, at this same time of year.