The rain has been falling. One minute it's cloudy, cold, and wet....the next minute the sun, weak and watery as a used tea bag, strains to shine. The rain is falling again; it's evening and the sun is giving in to a dark and sullen sky. You're standing on your front porch in the rain, your heavy bag of groceries becoming a soggy lump in your arms. A tinny, clump sounds on the pavement; it's two cans of tomato soup; they've slipped through a tear in the bag.
Slow down. Don't keep fighting your bad mood, or the rain, or the shadows that lurk in the corners and around your heart.
Now stop. Notice every rivulet of water sliding down the brick wall, listen to every car roaring in the distance, feel the rubbery folds of your raincoat on your skin.
Spring is coming. You can't see it or feel it, but it is hidden in the dark of the shadows, the damp of the earth, the disappointment of the moment.
Your tired misery is not merely an enhancement of spring's wonder, but more a soulful potion that mixes with renewal, without which sunny days would only be a dream.
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