Tangerine: A Book of Hours

My fingers are still sort of dense, slowed from being outside in the cool air. And there is still a bit more coffee in my Sunday mug.

I was in the yard, a few moments ago, watching ripples move through the pond. Listening to the water. It is a clear and almost warm day. Muddy. Vaguely buddy. (Some trees hold green nubs. A few verdant shoots are peeking from the ground.) A pre-echo of Spring.

Still, you need your gloves and, eventually, a hat. And a steaming mug of coffee (that went down well and glowing). It's fun to see the lines at car washes grow -- and the advent of motorcycles, again. The fish are sluggish and the sky was perfect blue (but has now grown a bit fretful).

My cheeks are still cold.

But I like it.