A little longer day

Dusk descends a little later every day,

morning brightens earlier,

promising another spring, new life, warmth

in the teeth of west winds 

gusting to 60 miles an hour,

so the radio tells me and I

feel less wimpy about giving up

and turning toward home. 

I see no sign of spring except 

the promise implicit in lengthening days, 

which will have to be enough to carry me

through the waning days of winter.