How does Spring slip in so steadily
while struggling under winter's weight?
Despite the cold, it creeps...
clinging quietly to the warmth beneath the melting snow.
The clouds loom, the sleet slides down, the chilly winds howl-
yet the buds sit serenely, shut against the storm--
Waiting.
Waiting for the sun to deign to dip a little nearer.
I notice how the green brightens against the capricious skies
and soon daffodils are opening, standing tall and straight
even in the middle of a March flurry!
The gray monotony of the landscape breaks here and there
with little jewels of color and a flower appears.
A Miracle!
Where did you come from?
Only yesterday you slept in the ground.
And now, your proud head rises up bursting with glorious color!
Soon the buds will bloom, and posies of purple and peach
will fling themselves wide-- boldly rejoicing in their regal splendor!
Ah Spring! I await your coming with breathless awe!
I wonder if I could also endure the world's winter-
bracing myself against the bite of cold fate with confidence.
Not knowing.
But hoping that the sun's peaceful rays would at last grace my brow.
Fooling everyone who looks at my delicate heart--
When I know that they had survived the weather's worst blow.
