20 days and counting…

An ice queen no more,
Bathing beauty’s more her style.
Patiently she waits.


21 days and counting

Count those sunflowers,
Instead of black sheep.
That will surely help,
When you can’t sleep.

With dreams firmly planted,
Of a spring with bright light.
Sweet warmth, a companion.
We’ll run barefoot morn to night.

Winter’ s worn out welcome

Tonight I took a ‘double long’ bus from my job in the city to the icy parking lot where I left my car this morning.

The eighty people on the bus were silent. Most were dozing. A few be-speckled silver haired men in suits read their emails.

Watching snowflakes dance outside my drafty window, I soon surrendered to the dark as well.

A half hour later, nearing our stop, a cell phone played Vivaldi’s “Winter” for our wake up call. Eyes were rubbed. Yawns were heard. Wool caps and parkas slowly raised like batons.

Weary riders in a storm.

Or just weary of their winter.

I’m going with the latter.