i. I call on the wake of winter
to bring forth something fast
I can keep still no longer

ii. I wind my fingers
into the fabric of earth
tearing chunks out
to make a path to
where I need to go

iii. No cold nor dirt
will hold me back
as I make my way
faster than before
slower than I soon will

iv. I plant my feet
wiping soil-stained hands
onto the smooth cloth of my dress
I step forward
pulling my own roots free
I will hold myself back no longer