Spring

A sliver dewdrop glistens on the shooting crocus,
Like a diamond bracelet gracefully hanging off a lady’s hand.

The trees sway gently as a cool breeze ruffles their newly born,
Emerald green leaves

The cold air comes out in a stream as people take long, icy breaths,
They shuffle along, hands in pockets, slipping and stumbling across the icy road.

They step over the now brown and sludgy snow in wanting to get to the gritty pavement.
They cough quietly as they look over their shoulder to where the crocus stood.

Once again spring has come to visit.

Claudia Amarylis 2003