The last drip, the icicle is no more; losing its’ life to a rise in temperature.
The last line of snow melts upon the grass, small green islands appear.
Frost gives way to a shaft of sunlight, weak, watery sunlight.
Slowly, so slowly the evenings grow longer as does the anticipation of warmth to come.

No time for complacency but now there is hope as winter recedes
and reluctantly gives way to a strengthening spring.
A small snowdrop appears, then a minute hint of green, a tip of a daffodil,
violets hide yet gathering strength they give their hiding place away;
faces turned to the more friendly skies.

Life, new life all around; cats stay out longer and seek the sun.

The time of the singing of the birds is come.

© Val Gibbs