A rustling in the cold soil
silent to all but birds and worms.
Shielded by what remains
of the once home,
a stretch and push
finally achieve light.
New life cracks through
defiant of the chill air.
Hope peeks up from beneath
worn and tired leaves.
It’s a cue for the buds to form.
A suggestion that inspires the rest that follows.
Soon there will be warmth.
Shortly songs will fill the sunrise.
Sweet scents will hang upon the senses.
Spring is near!
Written by W. C. McClure http://www.wcmcclure.com. This may be shared (and please do); just please be sure to share it in its entirety, unaltered (and including this fine print), with credit given to W. C. McClure. Comments are welcome at http://www.farsideofdreams.com. Oh, and if you want to show your support, tell your friends about this short story blog – and pick up a copy of “The Statues of Azminan,” “The Cinnamon Circus” and “The Parallel Abduction” by W. C. McClure. Thanks!