I
Remnants of snow cling to the trees - white swatches clasp smooth brown branches or nestle among the green needles.
Meanwhile the buds are forming further out.
The woods on distant hills take on the felt of new antlers on spring bucks.
Seasons change. Here it’s almost April and the passing of winter is still in progress. Soon the exploding buds will vanquish the remnants of winter.
I know winter will come once more. Will I be better prepared?
