Crocus heads break through the dirt everywhere else on earth, but in Minnesota the first signs of spring are posted. Keep off the ice. Break throughs possible.
Sounds good to me.
I’ll start by breaking into a gallop just because it’s in the air. Then I’ll go ahead and break up with my winter blanket.
I’m dying to break in a new pair of sneakers — and there’s the broom to break out and windows that need cleaning — that I’ll try not to break.
While I’m at it, I’ll break into laughter that will soar like a fleet of yellow kites against the blue sky — bold enough to break a heart or two.
I’ll break my gaze with the past. Let things that never were break themselves against the clean pavement.
Break the wrapper on a new set of goals. Break the lock on my bike because I lost the key — again.
Crocus heads will break too. Sometime soon.
And I will break myself open like a bottle of spring champagne runoff.