Laying in Wait


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Spring wanted to escape the clutches of winter,

it was waiting for its turn.

Through the clouds, touching the trees,

the sun had started to burn.

The opaque blue of the February sky

embraced the ball of heat.

Branches stretched to feel its warmth,

longing for a chance to meet.

Buried under mountains of snow,

blades of grass strained under its weight.

Buds of lilacs hidden in their shrouds

longed to achieve their beautiful fate.

But winter in its fit of rage

took hold of the sky again.

Suicidal snowflakes fell

and cloaked where spring had been.

Mercury fell and icicles formed,

the promise of warmth was gone.

Spring would have to lay in wait

to sing its beautiful song.

21 thoughts on “Laying in Wait

  1. I hear the song of spring year round.
    But I think of the passing of seasons as a dance between siblings, each (reluctantly) giving way to the next, around and around.

    Wow, apparently I’m very philosopjical discussing weather on mondays…

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