Mountain Pass in Spring
The snow retreats with gentle grace,
Revealing Earth’s hidden face.
Young blossoms bloom where frost has fled,
And streams awake from icy beds.
The Winter Wren call through warming air,
Their voices angelic, beyond compare.
Soft moss returns in emerald hue,
Beneath the pines still kissed by dew.
The mountain breathes a fresher song,
Its stillness stirred by daylight long.
A daffodil, so small and true,
Stands bold against the melting blue.
The winds grow mild, the skies are wide,
As life returns to every side.
No grander throne, no finer art,
Than springtime in the mountain's heart.
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