The death-blanket of snowdrift fades again;
Our icy shackles, freezing bonds we shed.
From Winter’s wail to Spring’s lifelong refrain
We look, the haunting, frigid hell near dead.
The sky and ground their ageing winter cloaks
They cast aside in search of jovial hues:
Sweet flowers on the emerald earth adorn,
Their pastel charms evoke my thoughts to muse.
Red-breasted robin on the breeze alights,
Small silhouette against the sapphire blue.
The tender kiss of Rain comes, day or night,
Its pit-a-pat bids thee to doze. Adieu!
And yet, the idyll scene from sky above
To ground below means naught - without thy love.