National Poetry Month: Day 6

It’s been trying to be Spring here for a long time now. Fits and starts mark the days. I dare not speak the announce of Spring until I’m sure we’ve shaken off winter’s heavy coat. My backyard lies in the shadows of a tall building, the sun doesn’t reach the ground until late afternoon. Until last week I still had ice and snow back there. Even the crocuses haven’t been willing to poke out their heads. But it’s coming. I’m almost as eager as a kid before Christmas. But I’ll be patient. I can wait for it. It comes. It comes every year. That’s the joy of having all four seasons. The waiting is half the fun. Anticipation is a game I play. I’m good at it. I can be very patient.

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