Though winter is with us still <br />the birds have begun to sing, <br />to the cues of spring, <br />first a cardinal, then a wren <br />and now this morning in early March, <br />as a chill dawn pinks the sky, <br />the wistful fluting of a mourning dove <br />which, after winter’s longueurs, <br />when few but crows were heard, <br />now finds itself bestirred <br />to loose its song.<br /><br />Richard Greene<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/first-notes/
