Spring

It’s cold now,
But the grass is turning.
Hope is budding.
Fresh sunlight paints the world brighter.
I plant seeds, bless them with patience,
Watch for them to burst forth in vernal promise.
Around me winter grapples for more time,
But persistent and perennial,
Spring pushes Old Man Winter back.
Fresh breezes blow,

Change flowers–for good or for ill–
And the crocus promises warmth to come.