I send my love and this poem from our friend Rumi to all of you who, like me,
grow tired of winter, and long for the fresh breezes of spring.

love
Shayla

My worst habit is I get so tired of winter
I become a torture to those I’m with.

If you’re not here, nothing grows.
I lack clarity. My words
tangle and knot up.

How to cure bad water? Send it back to the river.
How to cure bad habits? Send me back to you.

When water gets caught in habitual whirlpools,
dig a way out through the bottom
to the ocean. There is a secret medicine
given only to those who hurt so hard
they can’t hope.

The hopers would feel slighted if they knew.

Look as long as you can at the friend you love,
no matter whether that friend is moving away from you
or coming back to you.

Rumi