For months, winter’s clouds painted the Michigan skies a steely gray, robbing the world of color. “Talk what you please of future spring and sun-warm’d sweet tomorrow;” for today, I walk the path of this spring, holding tight to winter’s sorrow.
Today, the sun’s heat fills my heart with the warmth that winter robbed from me last year. My steps are light as I trod the path to the nearby slough, where red-winged blackbirds ride the stalks of last year’s fuzzy cattails.
All around, the signs of spring call to me. Snow drops and crocus poke through piles of dark, rich soil. Daffodils bob their yellow heads in the breeze, as if in agreement with my thoughts.
Finally, the time I’ve waited for lays naked, exposed to the rebirth of a new season, a new me. The wheel of time slowly moves forward.
Posted for Prosery: Prosery: When it comes to Christina Georgina Rossetti DVerse Poets Pub