Every now and then, ideas start scrambling around based on stuff I've just experienced. After it kinda sorts itself out, I have to write it down otherwise it will gnaw at me until I do. This one started by the riverbank and pretty much worked itself out on a 5 minute walk back to the car. I'm really not sure what to call this kind of writing, so I generally just let it ride under musings.
Grimy snowbanks, looking old and weary, release rivulets of runoff to the river as they relinquish their reign over the landscape.
Rusty remnants of last years grasses rustle in a restless breeze.
Here and there, green shoulders through the sepia tinged undergrowth.
Glorious now - cursed later, glistening, black mud sucks at my boots, a welcome relief from the past season's crunchy snow.
As I sit silently on a log basking in the warmth of the noontime sun, I close my eyes to enjoy the hopeful songs of multiple birds seeking romance.
Upon reflection of the diversity and plenty of the morning's catch, yes, the promise of the coming spring is upon us.