Her chill has lost its jagged edge,
no more to tear into the bone.
Her breeze sighs sprightly tenor trills,
now muted Winter’s baritone.
Her sunbeams practice pirouettes
on dew that blankets grass and stone.
Her scent releases fertile notes
that herald Mother’s swelling thrown.
She rises, ringing bells of bliss
that carry ‘cross the waiting land.
Her warming gaze restores deep faith
in one truth you have always known…