craving an end to winter
to lay in the grass
and tromp in the mud
a satisfying "squish"
I think i have many souls, well several. A few. My spring soul is waiting, and anticipating her break out. She was fooled by those drippy days where we could see grass, just a few weeks ago. She rests under a garden, a bed of yellow tulips and waits until the ground unfreezes and the flower buds peek above ground. That little taste of spring woke her early and now she is waiting. Feeling impatient, with the cold almost unbearable for her. Feeling like a kindergartener on their nap time mat, awake but forced to wait. Hoping that the teacher will pick them to be the wake up fairy, or for even just that little tap on the shoulder that means they can get up, put their mat away, and move on to the next thing.
"and i said "what's a crocus?",
and you said "it's a flower." "
"and i said "what's a crocus?",
and you said "it's a flower." "