![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The Mere Cool
Jan. 29th, 2012 06:46 pmIt would have been a nice day for April. Spiky daffodil shoots are shooting a few feet from where the azaleas died when winter briefly shut down premature spring. Maybe next time it will be time for the daffodils to die. And when the spurge laurel is ready to scent the air, will more cold arrive and suppress the perfume?
This ought to be dead of winter, redeemed by slightly longer evenings that hint of spring's approach. Instead, the blue jays chatter all afternoon, and the fluffy, rainless clouds drift across a bright blue sky. When night falls, the un-hazed crescent moon is bright enough to reveal the iris blossoms along the fence. Day after day, an absence of gray. It makes me feel strangely displaced. Who broke the world's clock?
( Sunday Verse )
This ought to be dead of winter, redeemed by slightly longer evenings that hint of spring's approach. Instead, the blue jays chatter all afternoon, and the fluffy, rainless clouds drift across a bright blue sky. When night falls, the un-hazed crescent moon is bright enough to reveal the iris blossoms along the fence. Day after day, an absence of gray. It makes me feel strangely displaced. Who broke the world's clock?
( Sunday Verse )
