Normally we get snow first, THEN slush, but this morning February apparently decided the middleman is not necessary. Thus, I woke up to slush falling out of the sky. Not even sleet. I mean soft, squishy slush that oozes underfoot.
Here is a post from Book Riot: 15 spring poems to help us all get through the rest of the winter.
Here is one that caught my eye:
COME TO ME HERE FROM CRETE
Come to me here from Crete,
To this holy temple, where
Your lovely apple grove stands,
And your altars that flicker
And below the apple branches, cold
Clear water sounds, everything shadowed
By roses, and sleep that falls from
Bright shaking leaves.
And a pasture for horses blossoms
With the flowers of spring, and breezes
Are flowing here like honey:
Come to me here,
Here, Cyprian, delicately taking
Nectar in golden cups
Mixed with a festive joy,