Honey Gold

And so might spring come
with affectionate tendrils
of warmth
bursting tentative
barely contained
like a child with a sweetmeat
wrapped tightly within it’s palm
quivering with anticipation
the joy that awaits
a bliss that is complete.

And so might sweet birdsong wrap
around the budding trees
and sing it to bloom
like a mother singing to her babe
awake my darling awake
morning has come.

And so I might dream
in this brief respite
from the shadow of the snow queen
of what is to come
of the blooming reaching
blossoming days of honey gold.

more spring 001

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