windows crackle
wind knocks at the door
mumbles moving away
lingers over the hill
swaggers forth and back
holds its breath
invisible
suspended
overloaded
lashes out
shoving
away
spring
Waiting . . .
. . . waiting for bare branches to bear delicate leaves for fluctuating ice to become “Ice Out!” for shy shaded snows to boldl...
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I am waiting for you. Where do you wait? In Florida with retirees? South along the Gulf of Mexico? All the way home to sunny Mexico? Is anyo...
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