Day 11: Oh, the cold!

Balmy days turn flat on their face

A blistering wind

But is it? Perhaps I’ve gone soft with the warm sun’s promises

Wind from the north blows ice and snow under my neck

And I retreat indoors

And layer up




Dogs can wait for walks

Because Springtime-Me

Has been activated and won’t


Back to the cold




The sun warms my most secret of desires

Awoken by the smell

Of new Apple buds and

Hawthorn leaves that taste of

Spicy sugar



Pheromones of horny birds

Have stirred my being

And no!

I will not go back

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