Winter negotiates spring,
its last watered drops, ice tears
nourish that which will be,
release of what no longer serves.
After snow, graupel,
downpour of rain, I see your
green blush arms reach
to azure sky. I await, I inscribe your
nod to a new found spring.
Awww. It’s spring, at least in part. NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo begins tomorrow.
I welcome this as much as longer days and quick melting snow and birdsong.
Won’t you join me?