Poem for February

Even though it’s now March, and even though it’s almost summer-like here, this is for those who are waiting for spring:

Whisper

I stood at dusk to watch dark creep
Down a moment later than the night before.
Rags of snow tugged my shoes;
The pearl grey eastern sky
Soothed me with budding calm.

Sharp-toothed wind cut through
The shawl tossed swiftly on,
But beneath the threatened chill
Lay a touch of warmth,
Spring’s first whispered secret
Melting snow like cotton candy on the tongue.

The grass is brown and dead.
Garden earth, stone to the shovel;
But tonight, seconds shorter than the last,
Has given itself away:
The Light returns
And we turn, too,
Once more to warmth
And growth

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