Snow.
So cold.
Showers down.
Upon the ground.
Icing up roads.
Laying branches low.
I journey,
white-knuckled,
to my destination.
I step out.
The frozen air bites my face.
Will this Winter ever end?
Will Spring ever come?
Then...
just when I've settled in.
To accept two more months
of Jack Frost.
Winter breathes.
Her final breath.
And Spring.
Comes.
At last.