Spring belongs to the beholder
as hesitant flowers peek shyly
from under the snow
scaring away icy cold fingers
that hang from rooftops above.
Spring taps you on the shoulder
and urges you to wake
to the cheeps and rustle
of every bird and animal alive.
Her voice is merely a murmur
in the sun's orange warmth.
She walks softly trailing a breeze
that twirls and hums her curative song.
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Copyright 2002 Jo Ann English Janoski. All Rights Reserved.

Photo copyright Ron Janoski