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.