Writings in the Sand

Too Much Beauty

It's snowing. The air is filled with delicate white flakes. It's a winter wonderland.

Again.

Enough, already. I've seen all the breathtaking beauty of winter landscapes that nature can throw at me.

Give me March with its mud and its soggy, yellow grass. March when the crocuses poke their heads out in inappropriate places they were never planted.

Enough of the delicate white-laced arms of trees raised in reverence towards the sky. Enough, do you hear me?

Enough.