Low Sun.

One-thirty in the afternoon, and I'm coming back up the hill with the dog and squinting into the low southern sun, and even though the daffodils are coming up gangbusters in the back yard, and even though whichever sort of grass it is that starts just to green over right about now is greening over in selected front yards down the block, still I am filled up with a kind of stillness, a feeling like I am either stuck or nearly stuck, a feeling like it will never be March, like we will never get the sun to pick itself back up off the horizon, even though it already has, even though the nights are a little longer this week than last week, even though there's a tiny warmth to the air out there.