It comes gently in late winter,
When grass warms softly from the cold—
A precursor of the summer
When skies are blue and wheat is gold.
It will last but for a time,
Till the winter comes back then—
And we wait the green of spring
And we recall things back when.
But for now it is a beauty;
The best thing that we have seen—
When the sun warms heart and spirits
With the gold before the green.