Dreary day. It already seems a long week. Maybe it is the coming equinox that has me by the throat. Tomorrow, it is spring. And a full moon. There will be blood letting and a throwing of the bones. Ili will do a moon circle dance and come home strange. And I? Oh, I will do the same old thing, of course. But it feels like the end of something. Winter doesn't want to let go.
I am out of sorts. I want to say that in Yiddish, but I can't remember the word.
Oh, winter.
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