One more grey day  flips up on the calendar page pontificating about snow with the prowess of a lion who, in my desire for green, has made me her prey, and the kaleidoscopic page smirks at my tribulations like a magician who with sleight of hand turns winter to spring and back again leaving me in a cornucopia of thoughts about fall and how quickly it breaks from the branches here in Minnesota.  I ask the future pages,  “Could you please have her stay a little longer this year?”  A wistful request of hope that this drearily prolonged winter weather be made up for on the other side of summer.   ©  Roseroberta