It is.... well.... I mean.... well .... it's just a little frustrating. Isn’t it?
It is late February, early March here in the Piedmont. And.... it wants to. It want’s sooo bad, to be Spring.
And... after Mexico... well... Mexico... you know... she’s a party girl, isn’t she ?
No holds barred, straight up fantastic. Day after day after day of nothing but.... well great!
I mean, you can almost tire of it. Well... not really.
But now. Here. The Piedmont. The Spring. She.... she wants to... you know...real bad.
Cold, dreary, dismal. The disappointment almost gone now. The boredom, the gloom, the repression.... giving way to anticipation.
Today, this day. Blue skies. Morning.. not so cold. The breeze... not so blustery.
Just emerging. That green. That young green. I long for that supple glow to envelope me.
Sap ...rising. Rising to nourish swelling buds. Splitting forth. Soft tender shoots. Promise of fragrant blossoms of desire. Luscious fine filaments of soft new unmown grass. Kissed by remnants of moist dampness, of mornings dew yield tenderly under bare feet..
She teases me.
I feel it. I feel anticipation.
Reclined in my comfort, I shed the trappings of Winter. I expose myself to her abundant charms. The sun, warm to my touch. Warming my bare skin. Warming till I’m flush. Silky breeze caresses me. Softly.... tempering the rising heat.
I look to the sky.... azur blue, irrestible. I cannot look away. Soft puffs of white clouds, wafting by my eye. They provoke, no, they excite the imagination.
Virgin green. The glow of the warm sun. She envelopes me.
Oh yeah.... she teases me all right.
Spring... upon me. It is so.... so close. About to.... overcome me.
Unashamedly, slave to my sensations. Content to let the moment wash over me.
Perfection.
Spring, she plays the part well. The perfect lover. The moment. One builds into the next.
Anticipation. Expectations rise. Three o’clock. Climax to this sensuous day at hand.
But.... soft puffs of white, now, give way to expanses of translucent gray. The green glow, is lost, no longer enveloping me.
The suns warm caress leaves my skin. The soft breeze, now pricks at me with a chill.
Anticipation... expectations, go limp.
Frustration.
Gone. Her promise. Her charms.
Tomorrow..... 52, gray skies and the disappointment of a cold rain.
She has been....she has been teasing me. It is not the time. It angers me.
She is just a tease.
Why do I let her do this to me? Why am I always chasing her the way that I do?
Nobody... nobody likes a tease, most of all a little p***k tease like her!
But....20 March. I know, I’ll do it all again. I can’t resist her. After all, She is Spring.
Channeling my Pagan roots.
