Calling Spring North,
Chirping buds to burgeon,
Teetering in rain that turns to sleet,
Clutching black, wet branches,
Feathers puffed against the chill,
Cocked heads seeking sleepy worms,
Side glancing carefully the neighbor's cat.
These red-breasted birds
Chortling in the morning sun
Precurse Spring,
Sing cheer to me.
Though I, no longer young,
My Autumn just begun,
Winter coming on,
Life's seasons only last a while.
I have a Savior,
Who has gone before,
Endured cold Winter's death,
Calls me to Spring,
Beckons me to Summer....
Musing this wet March morning.