~

there is talk of spring

and evidence

i hear birdsong, i see yellow flowers in the parks

my body and my soul

is not convinced, stuck in the gray skies

and cold temperatures of january

when the sun shines 

i am out the door, covering the miles

basking with a book

but with the first cloud comes january

highly insistent

that it is not done with me yet

it is a slow dance

with a bad dancer

~