Poetry (words)

Six weeks

Six weeks until spring. I long for lighter, warmer mornings. I’ve never liked winter and that feels tenfold now. How moods seem to stick at this time of year like cloud in a valley. 

Soon the crocuses will shoot up through the soil. Such tiny delicate flowers, but such lust for light. 

If anything is getting me through the darkness it’s the thought of the months ahead. Riding it out for now. 


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