The city begins to melt as the sun warms soil and pave­ment alike. Trickles of water run every­where while the ice dis­solves, a pre­scient sign of the streams soon to be come from lawn sprin­klers and car wash hoses, as excess finds its way to sewer grates. By night, the tem­per­a­ture drops below freez­ing again and the small urban cur­rents turn solid. Pedestrians prac­tice their wad­dles in the morn­ing as they maneu­ver across the slip­pery patches. The only remains of ice are the paths left com­pressed by the tram­pling of feet through the winter.

Every day I wake up it’s a lit­tle brighter, in my room, and in my mind.