Eostara

you can almost see the sap
flowing through the veins of the maple
it's fingers ever skyward reaching
towards the rays of the sun

you can almost hear
the whisper of spring
through the soft breeze of
melting snow and the shriek of robbins

you can almost feel
the seeds opening, the ground
rich with potential
the sky clear with hope

you can almost wish
for a second, that you were
connected. that the spring was coming
growing through you

and under watchful eye we
stare into the greyness of
a march morning
looking for repair