Open Spaces

The air is brisk today and cold; I will not let my heart close down. I feel it taking in the wind—sounds just like the bloodrush. 

A Hard Spring

The crocuses pulsed up through layers of leaf and persistent snow. They became tall, like gawky adolescents. Temperatures stalled, then plummeted. Some fell over without ever opening.

[Note: this was written March 22, 2013, but not published at that point.]