Spring

We walk through the woods in early morning, the dogs and I, mist rising from the last of the melting ice. A warm down draft bringing the promise of warmer days to come shimmers through the trees on a shaft of early sunlight, the moist smell of pine and rotting leaves under foot. The dogs dance in this unseasonable warmth. I rename them Muck and Trouble and Bounce. I hope this is more than a reprieve from the season of snow. Because this is New England it's still too soon to tell. But for now, we enjoy the first breath of spring.