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.
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