“The deep roots never doubt spring will come.”
― Marty Rubin
Winks of renewal stir the air,
little robins flit everywhere.
Hadedas call their mates,
and frivolous birds congregate.
Dormant buds are peeping through,
under skies of azure blue.
Renewed promises come to life,
in morning glory’s twinkling eyes.
As if awaking from a deep sleep,
winter’s vows become oblique.
Long bitter nights are vanishing fast,
as songs of awakening
come to pass.