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Beneath these booted feet you are recarpeting bare brown earth when little else has dared stir in frost cold mud but timid grass. Your golden flowers hug the ground in full rebirth waiting to stretch tall greening stems to gild with lace May's mantle. Today I crush with every step your tiny, crowding whorls. I turn my collar up to fend my ears against a sudden rush of bitter wind. But in my winter weary soul your courage stirs a new found note. My heart responds, begins to sing a lilting happy song of joy and I can hear no more the final chords of Winter's dark and long crescendo. |
