Spring is sleeping.
The deep, long relaxation of the innocent.
Childlike curve to her cheek, not to be woken yet.
We wait on the frozen ground, hoping to see her stir.
Eager to start the day, the month, the season with her…
Hoping that she will be in a good mood when she wakes.
We hold our breath when she turns over in her sleep.
And watch the snow flurry down when only minutes before there was sun.
Discontented sighs from her sweet breath make rain clouds burst.
Birds try valiantly to wake her by singing only the softest notes, but it’s not working.
They need to nest, to start the cycle, hungry, and cold they wait.
Worried.
Wake up Spring, the ground needs your tears to grow, the trees need your warm breath to bud, and release their leaves.
Winter won’t leave until you wake up, packed in among the drifts that refuse to melt, like a cross bear in hibernation.
Lurking behind shadows, cold, damp, and dirty. It’s time to let him go back to where he lives the best.
You’ve slept long enough… Summer will be waiting soon for her chance to shine.
Wake up.