Why do you sing the same sad songs
when the sun is melting rivers in decaying snow?
The birds believe in spring,
but you still hide yourself in dead leaves
and sigh for last year's
What sort of waste is that
to aim for tragic
when the whole garden wants you to dance?
All around the buds vibrate life
and even the icicles sparkle
in their ending.
For your sake
(if only yours)
let the new warmth touch you
through the open door.
You were not made to cultivate shadows
and the season calls to the
light in your veins.
I never commented on this yesterday when I posted it (it's today now, in case you wondered). I suppose that's because there's not a whole lot to say. It's a little too hyperpoetic, but it's an easy mindset to get into when spring's finally come after a long winter.