mist, rising from the frozen snow,
beckoned to say:
come out -- feel the breath of spring . . .
but it was so silent, raw, and sunless . . .
on that blank white canvas
of snow into sky where
mist rose from the frozen snow
at the end of the day.
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restless edgy achy from the wait time to unfurl sprout feel the sun shine
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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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