The sun is low yet warm.
The air is fresh, with a slight bite to it.
There is the smell of cold rain.
Trees are gray skeletons against the darkening sky
Snow is gone, it will appear again soon.

Inside, ladybugs are trapped on the windowsill.
Wanting to escape the warmth, to go to an all too early fate.
We all wait.  This is not the rebirth of Spring yet...No...
Merely a tease, the January thaw.
 

Copywrite 1/1998  January Thaw  DLSmith