Spring

Jonquil neath snow awakes,

Green swords challenge the sky,

Sleep not eternal.

 

On silver stems,

Buds swell.

The first.

 

Robin, heavy with promise,

A rush to build,

Impatient arrivals await.

 

Sounds,

So soft, so sweet,

Emerges the future of the forest.

 

Farewell northern gales,

Fair winds caress,

Renewal begins.

 

It is spring.

 

 

 

 

 

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