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Thursday, January 24, 2013
Spring Will Come to She Who Dares
Below the window sill I sit
The world outside is sharp and still
The air is frozen, hard with chill.
The trees stand straight of solid will.
I go outside to taste the world.
The ice is in the air about.
It feels my warmth and pulls it out.
My skin, it gives a chilly shout.
I blink to bring the details close,
The hushed world holds much to see.
The stillness hides the mystery
And hopes it will not interest me.
I push away the icy grip.
The world is living, I can tell.
Deep within the deadness dwells
A hopeful spring of pretty spells.
“All seasons pass,” I whisper then.
“The coldness will not last too long.
This frozen world of baleful song
Will soon be golden, green and strong.”
The wind like water swells the air.
I feel its fingers through my hair.
And in the whisper, wind declares,
“Spring always comes to she who dares."