The sound of tree groans

Patiently she waits

Dreamily dreaming of darling buds
Waiting for the day of the paternal sun to smother her, to engross her in a blanket of warmth.

Dreamily dreaming to bloom once again to stretch her arms
Waiting to decorate her sleeves with a kiss of emerald.

Dreamily dreaming to drink the rains of April,
Waiting to be nourished once again by her mother in the garden of earth.

Dreamily dreaming of the children’s laughter drunk with freedom,
Waiting for the picnics to lay under her shade.


She whispers softly in a voice
Only I seem to hear.

Oh Muse of winter linger no more
Oh Muse of Spring return to me

Oh will you
Oh will you
Return to charm me with your ripe magic.


The Muse answers

Yes