this morning, i stepped out of my chilly tile entry way and into spring. a thick white mist rose above the flooded lakes of snow, drifted like the ghosts of lovelorn maidens underneath the trees. a warm rain fell, in spring's gentle patter with none of winter's sting. the air felt like a sauna and smelled like mud. for the first time in a long time, i was warmer outside than in.
i know better than to trust this phantom season. rain on top of melting ice is dangerous, and the temperature can drop on a dime.
but still we stood this morning, buddy and i, transfixed by the warmth, the scent, the sound and textures of spring.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.