Longing For Spring



by K. B., Fitchburg, MA



My longing for spring is most apparent on these harsh winter days. The cold, dry air is filled with stale, dead whispers. The bony fingers of black trees stretch out like the skeletons of all the dead springs past. My face is numb from the golden touch of the sun. Gray slush weighs my feet down like the heaviest of anchors. The drab sorrowful sky engulfs my melancholy soul. Powerful winds whistle their songs of mourning for spring, glorious spring.

Blooming lilacs, warm rains, and the sensation of mud in-between my toes. These are the blessings of this magnificent season. Warm sun filters through a lush canopy of broad leaves onto picnics accompanied by an orchestra of humming birds. These joys cannot be found in the dark, dreary days of February.

Life is the dominating power in spring. Spring is the season for rebirth and blossoming of earth and its creatures. The air is saturated with the sweet smell of warm earth. The winter snow has washed away leaving the soil clean and new, screaming to flourish into life, longing for spring.

As the spring ripens, savor every precious moment. Before you know it, February will be creeping up on us once more.