If I close my eyes it sounds like spring. Robins. Crows. Waxwings.

Every day this week I have worn a different coat. Yesterday it was wool in the freezing rain. The night before it was leather against the wind and in the afternoon it was boiled wool in the sun.

We must change our skin in the spring but only as spring will let us.

Winter boots today, or rubber ones? Or might the snow melt before I leave the house and just leather or canvas will suffice?

We must tread carefully in the spring. The ground may be frozen and hard or soft and sucking mud. Puddles may ice over enough to stand upon or be deep enough to slosh through.

The snow looks soft and light but is heavy and wet. It sticks to feathers and wool. We must keep moving. We must keep moving. We must keep moving.