False Spring?

False Spring?


I’ll take it.
True or false.
I can see bare ground beneath the trees.

Whether real
Or not
The icicles are crashing to the earth.

It’s not my imagination
Not a mirage
That square of white is shrinking.

Teasing, kidding,
Pulling my leg
There are signs of life.

The birds don’t care.
The squirrels are scurrying.
The blue sky spreads out overhead.

Winter weary
Soul crushing
Long-enduring
We wait with hope—

Chick-a-dee-dee, soon soon soon