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.