Eighteen Days

Eighteen days she has been confined to her lair by January’s wintry wizard, but today she will be emancipated.  Even now her nose is nuzzled against the cold restraint of the tracked barrier.  She leans impatiently upon one elbow, but in her mind she is dancing, swaying side to side through twisting pathways; sometimes smoothly and gently, sometimes almost violently with rapid force.  In her mind she leaps into flight screaming over the concrete track and roaring her dominant disregard for all that would gaze in her direction.  As soon as the frost recedes she will bound into the sunlight again and gleefully gambol about the world outside her darkened dungeon.  Could today be the end of her winter imprisonment?  Could this day herald the first distant calls of an approaching spring?  Her large eye blinks and twinkles with anticipation.  Let the ice be gone and beckon the haste of a springtime sun.  This Dragon will not wait upon the groundhog.

Let’s ride.  PMS is but for a night.  Joy comes with the rising sun.

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