Cars shushed steadily through
brown sugared snow in side streets. My footsteps landed on bare cement, dampened dark with snow melt. Missing patches of ice were not mourned as I walked,
until my pace slowed for a driveway rutted with the false spring mess or a collection of
grey brown water at a frozen corner. Blue sky was sketched with skiffs of white cloud and
the sun smiled as water dripped from eaves.
“When spring came, even the false spring, there were
no problems except where to be happiest.”
~ Ernest Hemingway
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