Night falls,
winter ends.
Spring has come,
to make amends.

Here I watch,
the waking world,
from its sleep
its blooms unfurl.

The buds come forth,
bright and fair.
Leaves are green
—here, there.

Yet I cannot,
the chill forget,
when winter howled,
and spring still slept.

The snow, the cold,
the icy dark,
upon my soul
has made this mark.