Heart’s Desire

We pretend it is spring because the ice at the bottom of the back porch stairs finally melted and the dogs came back from running in the field with mud up to their ankles and we had to take off our boots before going inside like when we were kids and we had to leave our mud-clumped sneakers in the garage, standing in the dark with only the light bulb lit over the workbench at the back, and we tiptoed into the house in our white socks that had been put on clean from the top drawer that morning but had become baggy and grey from our playing so long and so hard, those times pile on all of the others for a soliloquy on spring’s arrival because we yearn to not care about the time or the weather or our socks.

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Photo by Richard Bell on Unsplash