I hate these days, don’t you?
when the sheets of ice begin to melt
but all that’s left is grey slush under a grey sky
nothing to look at here
if only there’d be a wall of downpour
then I’d be at my window
contented with the world being washed clean
it’s not that I myself feel unclean and cold among all this pre-Spring
but who wants to be devoid of color?
©Abigail Siegel, 2020