The sun, in its soft patina,
is almost balmy, deflating the last
dirty pockets of snow.
We have shored up the larder, ready
for yet another snow dump,
another Nor’easter

It may be equinox
but these things are not divided equally.
As always, we ride along close to the ground,
feeling every bump of the season,
not seeing the longer view,
not really minding, either.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 20, 2018