The warming sea shrugs off its ice undulating faintly in its thinness this morning in the harbor. I jog in the wharf's receding snow. Spring lives in all the months; December was warm, especially by the sea and farther out, the ocean, in January, refused to freeze. The tyranny of ice makes indifference warm. The wind, not the sea, is to blame for every storm. Fair and large, the soothing ocean, bigger than my petulant, bursting, emotion. Now in February I leave winter at last, impatient to leave it, all bad memory, all that I thought was all, Dwindles in brightness this morning to nothing. Gone, gone, every bad thing from the past!