The Last Day of Winter
“Snow has forgotten itself.”
- Peter Davison
Putting away the globe, while the sky blue stretches open wide, flowering sunlight down. White traceries, thinning, shrinking from the edges of the shade. And birds, all a-flutter.
Winter’s last.
Removing dust while Kate sings on the stereo. At the end of three days off and I’m getting this stuff done, readying for Spring. March has been sparse, shifted. I’d like to get a plant or something. New life for the new season.
Winter wasn’t really that hard — but I’m ready for the blooming.