It’s not raining so much as weeping.
Mist pours itself from every surface and I am at peace.
There’s something I find heartwarming in the
drab dampness of the morning.
The knowledge that spring is throwing the
Full weight of inevitability against the iron will of winter.
The passing of the season of darkness is written in the heavens and
Even the illiterate are learning to read.
I am securely bundled in my sweater and scarf.
A shiver of contentment makes its way up my spine.
It’s for days like this that I live.
Days when the anticipation of joys to come
press so intensely upon me.
Press on me not from above, weighing me down,
but from below, Propelling me upward on a
foam of laughter and delight.
All is right with the world and I am at peace.
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