Spring

Spring.

Shy.
She peeps her head from underground.
Is stung by ice-cold wind.
She retreats.

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Undecided.
She knows no ‘normal’ day-to-day.
Bubbling with life, then frozen.
Just wait.

Colorful.
Bubbling azure, budding red, cautious golden.
Treasures with a time limit.
Don’t blink.

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Tempestuous.
Clouds of darkest grey, swirling, destruction.
A sudden deluge of rain.
Soon past.

Delicate.
Whisperings of great tomorrows,
Fragile works of art unfold.
Tread gently.

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Spring is a girl-woman, just turned thirteen.

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