THE cold soil, stroked by icy winter fingers...
SPRING battled with this foe to bring defeat.
IS there yet a glade where Jack Frost lingers.
COME oh bright sun to oust him with your heat.
THE twigs that once held icicles a-drip,
EARTH, quite resolutely, turns and turns,
HAS some concerns but firmly takes a grip.
GLADLY the tired wind rests, then blows in turn.
RECIEVED brown bear, there in his hide a boost,
THE needed creep of Spring to stir chilled blood,
EMBRACES life, as birds, to fly, to roost.
OF course the waking trees begin to bud.
THE cycle then does flow as God has planned.
SUN, now it's up to you...go take command.
Quote: Sitting Bull
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