I know the Winter winds still like to blow,
Keeping folks from walking the city streets,
Yet the time has arrived for it to go,
So we can emerge from our safe retreats.
I stand looking out the frosted window
At the empty chairs at the restaurants,
As the servers patiently wait below
For the locals to return to their haunts.
Only the icy chill goes to and fro,
Giving the advertisements their own dance.
Nobody’s there to watch their tempting show,
Giving the day’s market a fighting chance.
Tomorrow the sun will peak through the clouds
Building up the rise of summertime crowds.
John Collings 