It's when the winter snow
melts into the frozen ground,
And little needles of brown grass can be found.
It's when the ice turns to slush,
And the night's a quiet, chilly hush.

It's when the bonfires linger,
And the warmth bites at your fingers.
Smoke blows away the
remnants of that rough day,
And reminds you that a new
wing of time is on its way.

It's when the animals come out
from their hiding holes,
And it's when the temperatures
will become warm beneath your soles.
Patches of frost lie about,
Showing trees' trunks so stout.

It's when the forests awaken,
And when all suffering is taken.
The harsh weather is at last done,
And it's at the bitter times we shun.

It's when Spring is nearly here,
only a few more days!
And all of the ebony crows go
elsewhere to play
to a far away land,
until they are called back again.

It's when the world shifts,
And the leaves lie in crisps
On the muddy earth we walk on,
With worn boots made by Mom.

It's when the foxes trot gracefully,
And the deer prance playfully;
The air hangs with the leftover, frosty bite;
Soon to be gone by the sun's morning light.

It's when the afternoons are golden,
And new days are woven
Before us a new dawn arises,
Ready to bring new surprises.

It's when the rivers thaw
And sounds sing with a
heavy sleep still so raw.
Warriors come home;
No longer is the world a dull monochrome.

It's when you hear them stirring,
And the great rivers purring,
Rich with the frozen worries of yesterday
Floating off, into the depths of a long,
forgotten, wintry stay.

It's when sun moves and the stars shimmer,
And the eyes of all the animals seem to glimmer.
The seasons have changed, and so have we‍;
Anger turns to forgiveness,
and our troubles fly free.