I squint and shade my eyes with my left hand.
My jeans are wet from the unusually green grass.
The warmth on my face is soft but exponentially increasing
No signs of winter --
Except for the slight edgy coolness of the almost still breeze.
My daughter in jeans and a t-shirt plays
With Crayola sidewalk chalk
And picks wild flowers, a euphemism for weeds
Growing in our backyard.
Occasionally I hear laughter from my neighbor
Whose door is open and is keeping amusing company,
One feels guilty leaving this day.
These rare days,
When one is taking in sun while others are shoveling snow.
But I escape into the dark and AC temperature-controlled house.