Forty-three days until the beginning of Spring, we are ready to say goodbye to bad colds and high gas bills, aching bones and gray mornings. As Winter plays its last notes like water on metal…
… The Sun is barely warmer than the Moon.
Naked branches without color…
Damp earth holds on to bird tracks for warmth…
Yet, already the ice has begun to crack.
Give us a few months of color before we welcome Winter back, only to curse again.
Mom says: Bravo Julie, Bravo!