The trees whisper of spring’s approach
While small birds sit amidst the conversation
Cocking their heads this way and that.
To the creak of old wood
And the faint stirring of new life
Drawn from icy spring rain
And softened soil.
The birds are impatiently interrupting
The tentative susurration of the trees
With twitters and joyous song
With the sway of branches
In bracing winds.
For they too have heard it in the air
And seen it in the strengthening light.
But the trees pay them no heed
For they are tenderly exploring
Winter’s shearing with tentative pulses
Winter’s frozen toes in warm patches of sunlight.
And contemplating swollen buds for yet another season
of light and leaf and dancing shadows.