Thursday, February 9, 2012

like mummies

we creak, groan, mumble, and stagger from winter to spring; shedding trails of wrappings: hats, jackets, and gloves.

One day it's all arctic blasts, icicles, and whirling flakes. The next, bright sun and puddles of melt.

One day your nostrils freeze closed, the next you see bare grass at the edges.

So we toss off scarves and look for robins. Sun, smiles, and signs of spring.