Signs of Spring Buddha’s head peeks out at me from “oer receding snows It’s warm, yet a cold wind blows
The frozen signs of Christmas lost to banks of January storms are readable, not reachable, anachronistic symbols of time out worn.
El Nina blows across the snows a devil in her fury picking up the melting frost hurling it aloft storm-tossed she moves the moisture on to other climes…
