When Wintering is Done

It is a surprising morning - 

Like the cold is trying to be kind.

The Sun hits pink on the grass

Sprinkled with ice,

Glittering.

But the yellow-bellied blue bird

Above me is the future Sun -

The creatures all to come out

When wintering is done.

We have other selves, 

Waiting,

To leave the nest of our senses.

Then, instead we will see

Spirits sparkling,

Ours,

On the grass.

LJ Ireton 2024