I thought about a poem for this month…
But, that didnt seem deep enough.
The cold and darkness
fold my soul into a small
I can not shine.
But, that seemed too depressing.
So, the realization that I am not a poet looms large…
The bottom line is that I struggle in winter. I feel sluggish, irritable, tired, and sad often for no reason. I want spring. The smell of mud, worms and softball. I want to wash wet slimy dirt out of the knees of my child’s pants. I want blooms, birds and beer in whatever order they appear before me. I want rebirth in my tired soul. I want all these things. Soon.