Promises kept. 

Solo songs celebrating the demise of the long, Dark Silence.

Fog-white greetings laughing through the fading threats of thinning ice.

Sunrises lingering now to revel and rejoice, 

Renew and restore,

Summoning the stories archived and buried carefully for future readings:

        Delivery on promises vowed at the slow closing of Autumn’s eyes.

        Spring: “It is time.”

3 thoughts on “Promises kept. 

  1. In Illinois there seems to always be one day which marks the arrival of Spring. I’m not sure what it was. Perhaps a certain scent in the air? When I lived there, I looked forward to that day each year, not quite knowing when it would arrive, but sensing it quite definitively when it happened.

    Liked by 1 person

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