Waiting for the springtime warmth,
to melt away the snows,
I see the green of springtime growth,
break through the crust below.

Through long and frigid winter months
and dangers that were fraught,
our northern states have braved the cold,
that mother nature brought.

Through banks of ice cream frosted snow,
that wrapped the land in white,
the brave green shoots of newborn grass,
peek through with morning's light.

The cold is lifting, none too soon;
it’s fled before the melt,
and left this wanting, summer soul,
rapt with the joy I've felt.