Don’t open your eyes so soon,
this winter swoon
doesn’t want to cut us loose
quite yet.
Red blooms
at the end of your branches
feel soft
on the tips of my fingers.
Careful not
to squeeze too tight
and stunt new growth,
though we know
a cold snap
could come calling
at any moment.
I fall in love with the sun
every afternoon anew
when its rhythms of light
pour down through the sky,
splashing the scene
with a radiant shine,
sparking the sound
of a symphony
from the choir of birds
that can’t stop singing.
Who can blame them?
When ecstatic thoughts
start soaring,
I find it hard
to shut up
just the same.
