The moon spills milky light across ugly ground. Stretched shadows will shrink as dawn comes with promises.

The fullest moon since 1993 wanders across the night. Winter will end as the moon sinks, and down here on the ground I wait for spring.

I can't wait to open my hands and drag them across daffodils.

I am going to go read about murderers arrested, sentenced, locked up, then found fascinating by the media. My heart is set on finishing that gentle, pastel flavored Cabernet I opened this week, and turning pages. Sordid stories and a dose of wine might quiet the screaming in my head that is ranting about spring.