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.