On a Winter Lament

I dream of a day when the glaciers of Maryland will be no more.

I dream of a day when birds are in the air, when plants break the soil, when flowers bloom.

I dream of a day when a warm sun beats down on verdant fields of green.

I dream of a day when a kite can soar into a springtime sky — deep blue, with large, billowing clouds of cotton.

I look outside. I see ice. I see mounds of snow.

I dream of that day, and I know it is not today.

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