Pining

I long for Spring.
When color returns
and days warm.

Through the window 
the flowers' struggle
to push away the heavy weight of winter.

On the air is a promise
of bare toes gliding 
through delicate blades of grass

In the depths of Winter
no thought is spent on the relentless rain,
or the steady hum of flying pests.

Nor nights when the wind howls 
and sirens scream in answer,
saying go to shelter.

Those annoyances, petty distractions,
lay forgotten under the layers of white,
endless cold, ice, and snow.