In the hush of the dawning day,
When winter’s grasp begins to sway,
A whisper stirs within the breeze,
Promising life among the trees.

Soft the sunlight, tender gold,
Warming earth that’s still and cold,
Awakens buds from slumber deep,
From frozen ground, green tendrils creep.

The crocus peeks with vibrant hue,
Petals kissed by morning dew,
Daffodils in clusters bright,
Chase away the lingering night.

Birdsong fills the crisp, cool air,
Notes of joy beyond compare,
Nests are woven, twigs entwine,
In the dance of spring’s design.

The brook, it sings a fresher tune,
Reflecting skies of pale blue noon,
Ice that choked its babbling voice,
Melts away, and streams rejoice.

Early spring, with gentle grace,
Transforms the world, renews its face,
Subtle shades and fragrant air,
A tender prelude everywhere.

Each nuance of this season’s start,
Whispers softly to the heart,
With promises of life reborn,
In the quiet of the morn.



©April 9, 2025
Diane E. Dockum