The air is fresh and crisp, piercing through the sky,
My hands become sticky from the sap on the frosty mint pines,
The tree tops reach for the sky, just barely grazing it,
a cardinal, vibrant red against the landscape that used to be white, flies overhead,
Soon giving way to a field of smiling flowers,
They wave at me as they sway with the wind,
poppies speckled with paint splashed on them by the breeze,
And forget me nots, little bundles of joy lighter and brighter than the sky itself
A pond once covered in an layer of thin ice, sparkles with the morning sun,
On its side, Cat tails shimmer under an endless blue sky,
The only sound I Hear is the soft crackle of my feet on the scraggly grass,
Tickling my toes and telling me the oncoming spring has arrived