Late Winter Song

 

Late Winter Song

In a forest along an open path,
in a winter flower bed, 

I hear the faintest rustle
like raindrops. Though overhead

there are no clouds
nor collected dew falling 

from a tree branch.
The air and the trees 

are perfectly dry,
but I can still hear 

soft movements under
the layer of oak leaves. 

I notice the fresh
green leaves of spring bulbs 

pushing their way through
the dirt and past the leaves.

I hold my breath.

The most perfect response
one should make upon 

the realization they are hearing
young spring flowers growing, 

moving, singing, praying for
sunlight and warmth.

Author: Joan Hagy

Photo: Kasia Derenda on Unsplash