The days are longer now,
just barely.
You wouldn’t notice
unless you were looking for it,
unless you were the kind of person
who pays attention to shadows.
The beach feels different.
Not warmer,
but willing.
Light lingers on the water
as if considering its options.
The tide pauses,
not stopping,
just listening to itself.
I feel it too.
A subtle untightening.
Not a plan.
Not a promise.
Just a sense
that when something asks me to move,
I will.
Winter doesn’t end all at once.
It opens a door
and waits.
Whatever wakes with the light
doesn’t rush.
Neither will I.