The Lengthening of days has come,
But still the cold and bitter linger in our bones.
It has been the longest winter,
unable or unwilling to release its icy grasp.....
and the weary wish and want for sun and flower
praying for May's heroic hour;
The finch have shed their grey December dress, and
Painted themselves with the brilliant brush of gold that they remember.
The tree frogs begin to sing, the night woods choir in
but with another blast of chill, they disappear.....
And the Bluebird and I, well we are just here,
awaiting the lifting of winters shadow
from across the land.