There's something in the sunlight -
It's so bright - It glides and glistens,
Tripping across the tops of all these
frozen New England pines.
Thick icicles hanging heavy -
middle January -
I crunch across the snow alone,
Ice glistens where my footsteps fall.
Fingers crossed against this dark time.
Waiting - Baited breath for springtime...
Eager to hear the peepers,
See Johnny-Jump-Up through the snow.
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