Promises

There's a nip in the air
Lingering from yesterday.
But the sky is clear, and
The sun feels warm on my skin.

Snowdrops and crocuses poke
Through the snow, and the
Air smells like melting ice
And growing florals.

It's a cold morning but promises
To be warmer by noon. I stretch
In the morning sun, staring out
My sliding door.

The green is still slumbering
Under its blanket of white,
And mud is on its way. After,
Though? It will be a pleasant change.

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