A Sense of Expectation


The morning air is laced with coriander.
Thick white fog creeps up my bare arms,
The wet cold licks make me shiver
Despite the spring heat.
Crows whine on the rooftops,
Shedding black feathers as they scavenge
For breakfast.
There is a sense of expectation in the air,
As if the fog has veiled something,
A truth that is waiting to show itself
As soon as the remains of winter lift.

37 thoughts on “A Sense of Expectation

  1. The awakening of a bud, the sighs of the release of winter, the glow of that warmth again to open, enliven and renew what went before πŸ˜€ Then that must be you dancing among the tree’s with the fairies that I can see in the photo Trini, bringing in the birth of Spring πŸ˜€ ❀
    Nature's expectations of a new season…is it close? ❀ πŸ˜€

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