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| Charles W. Smith, "Wash Day in Jackson Ward" |
February
I have so loved black boughs against the sky
I half regret the coming of the spring
With soft leaves blurring that austerity...
Oh wintry Truth! What changes will Love bring?
Nora B. Cunningham
It's so true. Having once adjusted to the minimal, having steeled oneself to the bleak, all the green buds creeping out of the corners are like an ambush to the senses. Unsettling, unnerving, disarming. It is hard to let go of what's familiar.
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