The dreary days of winter, are falling and falling and falling again. And frozen in it's icy grasp I wait, but the only breeze I feel is a puff of frozen breath as if the door to some ancient tomb opened and breathed out a gasp of icy eternity. If howling winds and blizzard snows would come then I would feel alive. But this avalanche of windless cold that buries sound and soul... and spring. And stabs and holds all things with icicle fingers, and white dead flesh of snow is all I see. Where is spring, and rain, and green things growing. Where is life. Waiting... and waiting... two months hence. And where now, am I (getting a little cabin fever, that's where I am.)
I've only got one thing to say about this, Damn it's cold out there. Keep warm everybody. Ciao for now.
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