Untitled no. 88

I remember when the streets were that special kind of muddy.

The kind that existed when the snow was just cold enough to make a dirt pepper with the effervescent sand.

The wind swept over,

Leaving cattail snow drifts. Not cold enough to stay, not warm enough to melt.

β€˜Til the sun beat down mercilessly

And life melted back into normal.

Such as it was.

M.

Spring

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