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
 





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