Spring Fever

It’s another cold and dreary day here in NYC. The morning birds sing promises of spring, but the sun will not cooperate. I have a sinking suspicion the sun is depressed and can not roll out from a fluffy, white bed to face the day bold and proud.

Transition abound, all this recent change has giving many people a touch of “the depression”, just a touch. If I were the sun, I wouldn’t want to look down on all the frowns, drowning in salt water. Maybe if we all join hands and sing a chorus with the birds, we can convince the sun to come out and dry up all the rain.