Spring waits,
A peek, a glance,
A leafy dance,
A flower or two,
Soaked in dew,
And winter fades.
The tender green,
Through the rocks,
The dried-out stalks,
An emerald touch
That means so much,
Where winter’s been.
The azure sky
Will soon be ours,
As will the flowers,
The yellows, reds,
Will toss their heads
As the songbirds cry.
A season comes,
Out of the grey
Of the winter day,
A fragrant breeze
In leafy trees
Where the cuckoo hums
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