Winter sneaks out the kitchen door,
quietly ushering in the first signs
of spring. She’ll be back, I know,
frosty and captivating.
In her absence, there will be longing:
I will wish for darker evenings,
cool air and nights at home
that do not feel like wasted golden hours.
But here is spring, bouncing in
full of hope and light
that we desperately cling to
in an echo of the two previous Marches.
We march on, as humanity does,
finding pockets of joy
and embracing
those we love tighter, harder.
In the wake of her departure,
show winter some grace —
she is terribly beautiful.
