I sit looking out my window,

The calendar says APRIL – Spring

But, mostly I see the browns

And grays of a left over winter.

The only green is a smattering of pine.

The trees have not blossomed

But, if you search with the purpose of discovery,

You can see baby buds hoping for life.

Like me, they yearn for the warmth of sunshine.

Hope, that is the promise of spring

And, soon it will come again with

All the wild, riotous of bursting life.

Karyn Finneron