gentle sighs of green
and spread themselves
over the discarded remains of last summer.
crushed brown swaths of departed grasses
reveal that banshee winter
hasn't altered the circle of life.
for months stark, naked and shivering
against pewter arctic skies,
begin to soften their silhouettes.
a mist of infant green forms an aura around them.
even the sky
warms from dull to deepest blue.
only weeks ago rigid and grey with ice,
small energetic wedges of green persistence
thrust through its crust.
shake off the gritty residue
of winter's demise.
a miracle has surrounded us.
last month's frozen grip is broken
by the softest of golden touches.
how subtle is a sunbeam,
yet what can resist it?