Desolate

We’re scratching and clawing our way up from more cool weather.  I see a day in the forecast with 66 degrees…there’s hope in sight.  It’s a brown and dismal world without the skyand evergreens to liven things up.  I long to see just one bud on the skeletal trees.  A single green blade of grass.  The ditch where I got some reflective shots recently is frozen yet again.  It’s time for some leaves, color and warmth again.  The prairie sea of grass needs to return.  The pond needs to have water and life in it again.  Winter needs to pack up its snow and hit the road.  Soon these things will materialize again.  Before long the sun will war us all again.