Little Fish

Tomorrow the season changes a bit, and contrary Pisces will send snow simply because she can, then open up sunshine with an embarrassed shrug. Just when Winter reaches its deadest, and all thoughts of life seem impossibly beyond recognition, a quiet, green upheaval occurs. And the tender moment beforehand, the uncertain, gentle play between the will to live and the resignation to slumber, is about to break upon us. It's been a rough day, and the exhaustion I experienced was momentarily lifted into giggles of mirth when I looked up to take notice of the date. Hold on there little Pisces, we'll both get through it.