Someone said today is the first day of spring but I thought it was tomorrow. Not that today was tomorrow rather that the first day of spring was tomorrow. Lean in, lean in the wind is blowing and there is grit everywhere dust and dirt and grit the wind blowing it into your hair your mouth your eyes squinting into the weak sun the first day of spring or is it tomorrow? Tomorrow we may well ask is this today or was this yesterday this first day of spring with the wind blowing clenching our jaws shutting our eyes against the fine dust and grit blowing against you always it seems against you never with you well it swirls this wind lean in, lean in heading into spring today yes it must be or maybe tomorrow the sun too feeble to do much good the wind is cold the wind has bite it carries a fine grit with it lean in, lean in you’ll get there yet
eugene stickland 
I do enjoy the sight of someone’s handwriting.
Me too. It’s a dying art!