With the unlikely proposition that winter would end
green tips took
beneath the softening crust of snow around the
collage congealed by road salt and sand
buried the early dream of spring in
My slippered feet sank muddying the soft
sheepskin leather. Joggers pushing the envelope
people the curb
cutting to the heart of the matter
springing forward with a rabid desire to bloom.
*I printed out Charlotte's contest direction and cut out the first word
in each of these lines.