Spring Beyond the Tree Line

I'm going back to April, going to watch Spring chew through winter, watch the sun, rake over the dead heaps of the thawing. I may have to take a night train to get there. April is way back behind the frozen tree line, Sometimes I think I can hear it digging through the darkness. For a while I'll watch the bouncing bleating lambs, say goodbye forever to some of them, go fishing for warm winds. The last train to January will not wait, I cannot be late, or I'll be mulched into bonemeal, and spread over this hard cold winter, for the few remaining sparrows.