Stoke for the coming: A poetic warming

As the snow thaws from the sidewalks and roof tops and Christmas trees resurrect like Zombies from their snowplow tomb, I sigh. My eyes blinded by this strange orange ball in the sky. I sigh. Strength in my hands, an injury healed. The light on the other end of the indoor climbing tunnel becomes brighter and brighter and my insides want to leap out and be velcro-ed to the bronze colored rock in my dreams, I sigh. The end of winter is nigh.

Here's some stoke for the coming.

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Footnote: This can also be viewed with better quality at The Girl From Ipanema