When the waving heavens are soft <br />Cool inside the birth of green— <br />And the snowdrops filter <br />Through the blades and leaves <br /> <br />Budding and leafing <br />A rosy reflection—a mist of chill, <br />A pillow of muse in all its glory <br />And glistening, never blinding <br />A fading, a release, <br />A relinquishing on all <br />That is cold and vacant. <br />When the birds are plump <br />And wild with nature— <br />Seeking a link of rebirth. <br /> <br />Early spring, when the <br />World reopens to your embrace <br />And there is no need for cover, <br />For protection— <br />All you need is one smile— <br />And muse to live. <br />Early spring: when birth <br />Is a little gold, a little white.<br /><br />Masiela Lusha<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/early-spring-2/
