In Winter, I find a hunger to be full in all this bleakness, this gray.
Outside the resident Canadian geese paddle along selecting the which grassy lawn they will graze on today.
At night, across the harbor, Christmas lights beckon from picture windows, one set is deep blue.
Amaryllis bulbs showing the beginning of spears
Red Lion it is called.
I feel the hunger of a Red Lion in Winter.
My appetite has been whetted, my jaws are open.