Rumors of Spring

Out of death comes life. Sleeping birds awake
And hunker down no more, of the sunlight,
Of the warm air they chatter, believing
Winter gone. With them all creation lifts
Its voice; new light too summons new green, new
Life. Yet we wait for color in earnest,
For the threat of ice to go; even so:
The earth tilts its ear, the sun whispers "Spring!"