Wildflower yearnings, un-blooming and restless
longing for nothing but sunshine and meadows,
spring mist’d spillings on clover leaf lawns,
weeded temptations dot soon Sunday drives
as tiger lilies line the shoulders calling
in nectar’d phrase and orange sherbet wishes

Her Earth sleeps beneath cold canvas mornings,
foggy breath seeps from shiver’d mouths,
footprints like smiles disappear in tandem,
bundled decency falls to the way side
as foul speak through chattering teeth
vibrate in angst against her endless winter

Still she smiles knowing what rests within,
stuffed in her springtime pocket
of seedlings and smiles, close to her they wait
Squirming for release and peering over edges,
listening for that call of warm temp delight,
tiny parachutes at the ready

Gray skies peer down, frowning on what will become,
sensing they too shall once again hide,
pushed aside by blue sky dreams,
warm breeze’d sonnets sung in harmony,
butterfly dance cards filled…once more
her winter pocket will take inventory

Sighing, she ponders in snow flake tricklings,
grinning at giggles of April anticipation,
flipping another calendar page,
staring out over the stark white landscape
and whispering a promise to all…
“Spring will be here soon”