After winter’s grip, when darkness falls at four,
And cold restricts my breath, my walks, and more,
Boredom and laziness creep like frost across my mind,
As sinus troubles leave me slow, confined.
Headaches plague me when I dare to step outside,
Despite layers double-covering me, head to toe, I hide.
But March arrives with warming, gentle rays,
Inviting me to venture out with confidence these days.
Without the fear of sinus pain and strife,
I breathe fresh air that reinvigorates my life.
The birds return, their songs fill morning skies,
Virginia’s Warbler notes so crisp and clear,
The Towhee’s gentle mew, a sweet surprise,
Grosbeak’s calls that make each pathway dear,
Titmouse chatters as the sun does rise,
While Sapsucker’s odd voice brings springtime near.
Their symphony, a healing music so sweet,
As daylight stretches, winter’s grip retreats.
My dog bounds joyful on our lengthened walks,
Smelling gleefully the fresh grass wet from night’s rain.
While nature silently, yet deeply talks
Through tender buds and leaflets, bright and new,
And cherry blossoms, pink in morning dew.
My body freshens with the vitamin D,
As sunlight bathes and sets my spirit free.
The people, too, emerge with brightened face,
With random chats and smiles in every place.
The elderly venture out to feel the sun,
Acknowledging that spring has now begun.
This season celebrates renewal’s power,
As hibernation ends with every flower.
My hibernation’s physical souvenirs
Dissolve with steps that banish winter’s hold,
As longer trails and warmer days unlock
The energy that winter had suppressed,
My limbs feel lighter, spirit less distressed.
Spring whispers promises of life reborn,
As butterflies and honeybees swarm blooms just formed.
Tulips unfurl in vibrant celebration,
Virginia Bluebells carpet forest floors with blue elation.
Bloodroot – lovely and delicate – dots leaf-covered ground,
Where Shenandoah trails with spring’s treasures abound.
My balcony awaits its freshly potted flowers,
A tradition kept through countless springtime hours,
Each year to nurseries with my son I go,
A cherished ritual since he was five years old.
We carefully choose blooms, his picks and mine,
Our balcony transformed to my happy shrine.
This special place where hours slip away,
As I watch sky and trees throughout the day.
I meditate and listen to the birds,
Their evening murmuration needs no words,
Inspiring me to write, my journaling, poems and stories.
Happy, cheerful, fresh – the words that fill my heart,
When spring approaches and winter’s clouds depart.
My inner landscape mirrors spring’s release,
Each blossom bringing undoubted peace.
lotusheartgrateful.com 