The way the river
swells and pushes
The way the
meadow sits brown and heavy
The way I switch
with distrust from wool socks to cotton
The way the
trailhead parking lot overflows on Sundays
The way ice
gives way to mud and makes the hikers giddy
The way my face
craves affection,
And turns
with gratitude
To the stingy, sometimes-blue sky.
Fave line "The way I switch untrustingly from wool socks to cotton" I know what you mean--it's like you don't want to believe it 'cause mother nature can change her mind at any moment--this is the promise of spring.
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