Spring settles in with a sigh:
Mild breath and soft sun,
Trees still bare, but hopeful.
I'm tracing the words of this song in my head,
Because what is a song of Spring
If not a song of my self?
Mild tongue and soft eyes
As greening grass whispers,
'It is time to be in love.'
Anxious heart bubbling like an unseen brook,
Ancient heart thawing like the dawning of the day.
Timed, I'm sure, like a butterfly jar,
But full of unrushed beauty all the same.
The early light has made the sky
Free of blue: and so am I.