Spring

The kiss of spring on my lips
the sting of chill has me in its grips

the war of the seasons
the call of the crow

contrasts so sweetly
with the white dappled doe

cheeks flushed with warmth
and toes chilled through

the earths sweet aroma,
so old yet so new

the thaw of the ground
the rain in the air

the heady winds whisper
through dew dampened hair

the embrace of the ground
giving reluctantly under my feet

the subtlety of change
so bitingly sweet