Poetry Project, V. 10.0, Day 22

we have officially hit that time when nobody can predict anything that will happen with the weather.  Yup, every spring this happens.  They will call for 80 degrees, we'll get 47....they will call for 47 and sunny....we'll get 74 and rainy.  It's a crapshoot, which offers its own level of fun, but more often, is cause to simply shrug your shoulders and plan for every weather eventuality.  Oh Spring.....



looking through the pane,
at the world outside,
in its bright-green cloak,
the sun highlighting the yellow bits
that have yet to gain their hue,
taunting and tempting me.
i know i cannot leave the warm confines without a coat -
nature's cruelest joke after
the seeming endless winter.


Thanks for reading,

Me