Snow drifts in blanketing waves
I’ve forgotten the colour of grass
We plow out paths, add salt
pretend it’s all manageable
Do not speak of risks
how slippery the route ahead
Soon, the thaw will come
temperatures rising, rain
We’ll slosh through the mud
disgruntled and weighed down
Projecting hope in the first sprouts
Spring bearing the promise of renewal.
(Linking up to my weekly challenge: waves. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 