I already miss the smell of spring, when wild blooms catch up close to the edge of my nostrils, as beyond anyone's common knowledge I lay in the stark silence of winter, hibernating and waiting. Waiting for dormancy to end, the earth to warm, and nocturnal songs of crickets to drift in through my window.
Waiting, for the cold vapor of my mouth to suspend, and I, to turn to a purple haze frenzy of saluted heated passion. Waiting, to loose myself in the rise and fall of waves of rapture. Yes, I simply cannot wait for spring, to forget the gloomy gray fog of winter that holds me like a cage, implied but left unspoken.
Yes, yet another declaration from me, on just how intrusive I find winter. I never was a girl of “all seasons”, I was the bare legged and mini skirt kind of girl...my mid - life years are proving no different.
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