We Wait for Spring

Despite using white cotton
as nature's tissue,
white powder floats down
from the sky, gently weeping

for the un-blanketed, sleeping
trees. Some are covered by the
sky's frosty tears…

Gentle blades dull to a yellow
while they wait to be re-forged
anew by nature's furnace.

Mother's smiles have now waned --
they wait to be loved
once more by nature's warm embrace.

And so we continue to wait for Spring.