Melting—Yes, that’s the subject I wish to explore this morning. But what kind of melting?

I’d like to wrap words around the shrinking white outdoors, but none come. I sit and wait. A few peek around the corner of awareness, then nod off. Others resemble careening racquet balls, solitary projectiles, unable to relate with anything and drop to the floor. Thus, the challenge in working with words. Still, in the side yard, the plank fence is bare of snow as also the Christmas holly, its red berries diminishing.

Perhaps another day will produce the blog featuring the melting white world outside my study window; its beauty still speaks.