It's springlike outside
Sprigs of green
Pushing through unfrozen clods of dirt
Everything coming alive
before its time.
So hard to hibernate - with a lack of snow
as sunshine erupts through white clouds
coloring blue skies and this month we call January.
My brain knows better
This land should be colder
and wetter.
My bones should ache
My toes and fingers and nose should be stiff and froze.
They aren't.
I shall not be fooled, oh Cleveland weather gods!
I know your wrath is coming
And we shall be digging ourselves out
still
in April.
