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Writing

Becoming Spring

The nights
are still long
and dark,

but each day
there’s a little
more light.

The mornings
are still chilly
with frost,

yet the sharp edge
of the cold
is softening.

The branches
are still stark
and bare,

yet their buds swell
with the promise
of vibrant leaves
and bright blossoms.

The bulbs
are still deep
in subterranean
slumber,

yet they are
gently stirring
with dreams
of spring.

The birds,
having flown south
to warmer climes,

are feeling
the familiar tug
to return home.

Yes, it is
still winter,

but it’s
becoming spring.

 
   

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