Pale sun touches fairy trees and frosted woods
That now must wait for spring’s sprite to return and
Once again awaken each paralyzed bit of new life.
 
A sudden wind-flurry makes glazed branches
Plink and chime where puny buds cling,
Terrified, 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...

From Celebrating the Heart-land (Jericho Productions, 2009).
Used with the author’s permission.