Awaiting the green

I await the green

The sleeping willows

the steeping leaves

I await the glow

of gold and pink

of the bulbs at their peak

the blinks of the baby flowers

unopened but swelling 

with promise

and rain.

I await the taste

of the first bitter placed

in my wintry mouth

like warmed snowflakes

flavored with life

I await the green.

I beckon to spring

might she show herself early I dream

of the first less frigid

walk and forage and frolic

looking through the ice glasses

of my window

I splash the hot soapy water

over pots and dishes and hands and wait

for the birds to sing 

the river to life 

and spring to midwife

the new green