.
I turned around and
–I sighed and waved.
They tossed in the final
shovel of dirt over the
sad, fading eyes of
a lingering, unloved winter–
One final– goodbye,
then to suddenly say hello again
to my good ‘ol warm friend Springtime.
The mountains and valleys have fallen
victim to an explosion of wildflowers.
Indigenous birds return to brag with
an early worm for every beak.
The fateful fallen snow has
melted and found its way to the singing streams
to give life to the new spring catalog–
–The regal rushing streams have stolen to a crawl.
Shadows fall a little bit lighter and
willing participants are no longer
forced to stand behind frosted windows.
.
