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Harbinger of Spring
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I met the lord of spring today cloaked in spotted red.
Upon my windowsill, he's still stretching from his bed.
They trumpet for his return the birds, forgetting slumber.
With their song, the young grow strong and multiply in number.
Heaven, in catharsis, washes away the dreary.
To start anew, as spring should do invigorating the weary.
Long are the days of winter, endless were its nights.
Renewal springs from ladybug wings and a tunnel's ending light.
Copyright ©
Sara Etgen-Baker
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