I wait at the window, opening it a little more each day. I watch as everything comes to life, in a slow and ressurected way. Lightening and thunder- we'll hide in the sheets with flashlights, we'll splash puddles in the rain. The birds will wake us, singing, in the morning, and at night, the crickets will serenade us as we lay. The dandelions will make the green, golden. If you're patient, they'll grant wishes, don't moe them all away. I sit at the window, waving goodbye to the winter. Your icesickles were good, but it's too cold for you to stay.
Ah nice, nice. you're making me pine for warmer seasons. Though here in new york we had a very weird winter. Global warming anyone? I digress, sorry. Your imagery isn't just some poetic device, it translates into to experiences, visual and otherwise. Not an easy feat to accomplish. well done
