Marching through March

Lunar landing below boots: en route through schoolyard, stumbling over snow blanketed roots.

 

The crunch and puff sound is ubiquitous in the frozen air.

Particles of snow and ice travel through the wind.

 

Surrounded by physically changed water in a dehydrated saunter.

 

The night sky is chilling, desolate, and excitingly uninviting.

I want to be inside, undercover, next to lover.

 

I want to burrow to spring time.

I want summer to be around the next moment.

I am shaking from cold and sadly disappointed.

 

Anointed by the touch of wind gusts.

The landscape is shaped like desert blown sand hills; yet quite the antithesis.

 

Reality is we are boxed in by weather, a climate not of pleasure.

Frozen state, what awaits?

 

Is this our last bout of a past season?

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