The Dinner Guest

As I gaze at the delicate blanket of snow on an April morning,

I roll my eyes and demand an answer.

“Where’s Spring?”

Like - She’s a dinner guest who’s chronically late.

The table is set.

The tea is hot.

Still, no sign of Spring.

Exasperated, I start to worry.

I hope She’s okay.

I know the road’s are icy.

I’m sure She’s using the GPS and not relying on Her horrible sense of direction that got us both lost the year before last.

I pace in front of the window.

Where could She be?

Maybe I should try calling Her.

She doesn’t answer.

I sigh and close my eyes.

She’ll be here… She always shows up.... Any minute now…

I wake up to a tap, tap, tap on the door.

It’s Spring. She brought Rain.