Waiting For Spring

The waking forest pines; They shiver slight with cold – A parasite still clinging To winter’s loosened hold Expressions of misleading sky, Appearing soft as down, Betrays the battlefield below – A landscape scarred and brown Two finches nestle side by side, And sing of warmer days to come, But from the frost they cannot hide, Until the spring has fine’ly sprung The smiling sun, it plays on melting drifts: A foolish child than shines without a care, But little warmth does his display now give To dreary forest seeming unaware The low bent willow mourns her loss of green, As bitter droplets fall into the pond; Her only solace – knowing that her seed Will flourish in the many days beyond.