In hibernation’s
      silent song,
I’ve been
waiting for the first signs of spring ‒
a sleepy-eyed flower, petals plump with dew,
a born new blade of grass, reedy and lime green ‒
to arrive and
rouse me,
revive me
from the death of winter’s
      cold metal claw,
and carry me forward into
the new season’s
      satin sun.