The Arrival

it's early but you can call it wishful thinking

The Arrival

Now the Robins come to rest
upon my fresh green lawn.
Winter's seen the coldest night
but spring will bless the dawn.

The April rain is falling down
and warms the frozen ground.
It comes upon us gently,
wherever winter's found.

Buds are forming on the trees,
the geese are going home.
Everywhere I see the signs,
no matter where I roam.

Heavy spirits tend to lift
as winter moves along.
Spring then comes to free the soul
and sing her lilting song.

Seasons tire over time
but she will always be;
one we all look forward to
and greet her gratefully.

T.L.Finch