Late Winter
by Nancy Cummins Bierman

The sun is masquerading as the moon
A pale disk veiled by watercolor clouds
The cold so deep and damp
It seeps into my bones
The sullen earth is glazed with ice
It seems like winter never will be done

But, look! The trees are starting buds
A finch, his breast already turning red
Sings bravely from a naked branch
The sky is light late in the afternoon
And here and there a tiny shoot
Promises spring flowers soon

This winter day of fog and ice
Will pass like mist warmed by the sun
The sleeping earth will greenly wake
The bitter icy wind abate
The sun will shine from bluest sky
And vibrant, joyful spring will come



 

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