December’s moon has long since arced the sky.
Sharp rolling blasts of January’s cold
Confirmed the forecasts pundits told
Of a slow unraveling winter slide
Into spring. Little cost, one can’t deny,
To trade one hour for longer days, scold
The squirrel at the suet cake, boldly
Scattering finches, chickadees nearby.
The robin returns, fans snow off the beam –
A diva in springtime’s leitmotiv
Of disappearing frost, a rushing stream,
Young blooms, daydreams, small signs of fading grief.
Ah! Let the heart take note of nature’s scheme:
Warming earth, rain, time to sow, a hint of leaf.
– Mary Gardner
