Prose Poetry - I love the smell of melting snow.

It took me 24 years to "get" it. Still, I've always loved that scent that until now I couldn't name. Every year I mistook it for spring, knowing very well that spring was still weeks away. The cool ambient crispness. The softening, bright snow. The sunlight that leaves you blind when you turn to go back inside; these are the secretly obvious ingredients in Nature's most subtle fragrance. Chance of Flurries, forecasted for Tuesday. No, spring is not here. But this olfactive tease promises that it will be soon enough.