Broken Promises

A faint promise of spring smiles through the blinds.

The wind is less repelling though not yet warm enough to be embracing. It feels like Kandy in December and makes me nostalgic. Long forgotten memories compel me to split a spent out bamboo torch in the garage to make a kite, but I am dissuaded by a grown up and rational voice within… Because just before I left home, the weathergirl warned me that this flimsy promise of spring will be broken by mid afternoon. She is sure that there will be at least one more weekend of hail and rain to endure before the winds can clear out summer skies. Though the weather gods often move to contradict her, this time she is probably right, because clouds have taken over already.

Except, for a lone, but brave and determined bud on a naked twig that had decided spring has come, and it’s time to bloom.

~