Is anyone wanting to have fried ground hog yet. Punxsutawney Phil, you are such a tease. I am getting tired of the snow. I am glad that my heart was given a good report and able to shovel it out of my drive and off my walks. I just think I need a break. Can any one say Puerto Rico? Just kidding. Although I would like to do some traveling this summer. Where? I don't know.
This may sound odd, but I would like to return to Iceland someday for a visit. The country is so absolutely rugged and beautiful, waterfalls, mountains, glaciers. Me who dislikes snow and I want to go to Iceland, strange? I am, so you don't need to remark about that.
However, if you like or dislike what I am writing, you can comment on it and let me know what you are thinking. (Not that it will change my writing, but it will make us both feel better.)

It was the marching of a million little feet,
All around me. I could hear their footsteps falling.
Softly prowling, their footpads; stealthy and discreet.
Hiding in the bushes, whispering and calling.
It is dark. I am alone. I hear them surround.
They come ever closer invading nearby lands.
In ever mounting numbers, gathering around.
They move ever forward to grasp with outstretched hands.
Steadily onward, they press on every side.
I am covered by their unrelenting onslaught.
Resistance is futile. There is no place to hide.
Battle swirls at my feet. I am blind and see naught.
The war rages. It now dances around my head
The battlefield is littered with their bodies, laid low.
Each day I go to clean up the battlefield's dead.
I wish winter's war would end. I hate the snow.