I’m done with the snow.
I pass by walks unshoveled, crosswalks blocked, tree branches broken, and cars buried. I tread carefully on still buried sidewalks, detour around mountains of ice my height, and wear heavier jackets.
Most of all, I await the arrival of spring and its longer, warmer days. I listen to the trickle of water into the storm drains and I think that maybe, fluid ounce by fluid ounce, this ugly crystalline inconvenience can finally be over.