Days of snow (A poem by Cathy Gruman)

Sprinkle salt to melt the ice,
the north winds blow
and they cut through the air like knives.
A walk outside is desirable,
until I open the door and feel the punch of the unrelenting cold.
It continues for a while
making my head weary;
then temperatures rise
and the ground begins to melt.
Consistent days of sun invite the grass to peek through the white cover;
ice turns to slush, and one less layer is needed as I head up the hill.
(cg updated 3/4/16)