Pale morning sun lights fairy trees and frosted woods
that now must wait for Spring’s sprite to return and
once again resurrect each paralyzed bit of new life
 
A sudden wind-flurry makes glazed branches
plink and chime, where puny buds cling
in terror, their eyes closed tight
 
The creek runs a bit faster, tries to break Winter’s hold
mud-encrusted snow, once again covered in pristine white,
ice mounds continue their slow retreat to rocks and banks
 
A few bewildered blades of new grass
poke through this wet cover, unsure
of such a cold, white-rain world
 
Still, there is a softness in the morning air
where green-and-brown tinted trees rise
from fluffy clumps of snow
 
Today’s muted world is not nearly as stark as
Winter’s bold, black-and-white palette

© by Linda Lee (Konichek).
Used with the author’s permission.