Warmer

No more tender snowflakes.  The wind-drifted snow is no longer light and fluffy, now resembling crystal and glass instead of lofty down.  The early breath of spring has burnished the mounds of snow to create polished swaths of translucent cornices and weeping icicles.

The grass is peeking through the bleached landscape.  Reluctant to make an appearance.  Hesitating lest it be too soon.

The trees are skeptical.  Feeling the sunshine, yet sensing the chill of the still indecisive elements. 

Spring is coming...  Swirling through the branches and across the valley.  It may retreat, but it's here for a brief moment and I will enjoy it while it lasts.