Waiting for spring is never a pleasure, the days are growing longer but I still don't see my treasure, for the air is still tinged with a winter’s snare, and it doesn’t seem that there is a carefree bird in the air.
I wait and I wait to feel the energy of the morning sun so it may excite the window of my life, but all I feel is the frost that lingers from past glacial nights.
I hunger to feel the mist of the morning dew, and to gaze at blossoms that nature can do. What’s taking so long for spring to arrive, not just by name but also with the bloom Nature can contrive?
Hurry, hurry the hour is short, there won’t be enough time for birds to nest, and blossoms to magically transform into a ripe delight.
Hurry, hurry I can’t wait, let spring begin and winter finally loose it's frozen bite.
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