The Third Day Is Spring

Winter trees tremble with the last of chilling winds.
Twilight hangs like frost tempting frozen relief.
Brown aching branches have weathered every storm.
Bending beaten arms of black – tired arms of black.

The months are endless, cold as night
White snow has turned to grey
Grey dull mass of colourless slate-skies
Reflecting tired teardrops frozen on malnourished limbs.

Where’s the sweet sparrow’s song of spring
Announcing greener times?
My heart is cold like the hoary grass
Begging to beat again.

My scarred soul breathes in heavy sighs
Maps of yesterday’s sorrows are marks of war.
I am like the shivering trees searching for the solace of tomorrow.
The dark of winter dusk clings to shadows and cries.

And it was evening and it was morning when suddenly
Deep below the hardened earth, coils of the third day
Quench parched lips with melted snow.
Grasses and trees are reborn as G-d smiles with goodness.

Springs of holy words imbedded in the depth of sturdy roots
Remind the leaves to wash in morning dew.
Arms of almond trees begin to dress in pretty pink petals.
My heart is dizzy with perfumed myrrh.

A new year has begun for sea foam sprouts and baby buds.
Though there still remains the haunting of winter frost.
The eternal foundation holds steady ground in everlasting gallantry
And celebrates the blessing of birthdays of grass and trees and me.