1. Crisp air but shared sight Words like winter sun, bright, keen Spring's promise held near 2. Edges turned to stone Whispers lost to biting frost A cold, empty stare 3. Sudden jagged ice, Tones like shards, a frozen space, Pointing, sharp and deep 4. Gray sky, frozen ground Hope's small ember, barely lit Keeps watch for cycles 5. White fields, endless chill Spring's faint call, a distant dream Yet sun holds the sky 6. Icy branches wait With a silent, deep knowing Green shoots, they will rise
Author’s Note: What resonates with you about this poem and the various news of this week?
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Thank you, Suzanna. Your words give voice to all that is swirling around us in so many spheres these days. I, too, am looking for and celebrating the green shoots.
We will rise 💙