As the snow melted into the dead grass,
the sun filtered through the trees casting light
the wheelbarrow full of plants shined its brass
I ran up the hill holding my pink kite

I am glad the winter winds are ending
they had blown through me like a hollow shell
my thoughts were scattered but now are mending
these cold winter thoughts of mine I will sell

I sent them away inside a letter
to whom I do not know or have desire
whoever opened it may feel better
this soul shattering season will retire

The grass now rises from the dusty ground,
like I will out of this painful cold mound.