Spring sleeps in
It’s the kind of cold that is damp and warm when the wind stops blowing for a few seconds. The blue light is absorbed by the black top sucking the early morning light and heat. The thick grey clouds stretch across the sky as though the sky can’t make the corners meet to cover its toes. The blanket pulled up tight, almost to its chin, the morning rolls over begrudgingly nudging the covers down past its shoulders almost ready to get out of bed. Ready to unfurl its flowers, shoot up the grass and shake out its leaves.