Poem: I Hear Spring Breathing

I hear Spring breathing softly,
her quiet respiration
rising and falling
through the heavy snow banks
as they gurgle in the sunshine.

I hear the slow, steady intake
of mid-February air
stirring the awakening crocuses.

I hear the sigh
of the oak tree’s terminal buds,
warm wind stretching them out
beneath the turquoise sky.

I hear my own lungs
inhaling and exhaling
with renewed hope,
ready for the coming
of green and the shedding
of all that is grayed
with winter's feigned death.