It snowed yesterday, for a few minutes, the ground too warm to agree with what was in the air. The internet lit up with the news, with jokes about igloos and snowplows, but by the time we could get outside it had already stopped. No way to tell that it had been snowing and not just raining.
This morning everything was frosted, sparkling in the cold sun, the daffodils bowing a little under the extra weight, the heavy pink flowers in the trees a little wrinkled. I have been running around in all the usual ways, lately, in bars and at musicals and dance parties, still waiting, focusing like a puppy presented with a slice of bacon. If I stare any harder at what I want to be happening, it might all burst into flames.