Poem - When spring is but a promise

When spring is but a promise,
I remember the color of green
and feel the warmth of the sun
reflected in the melting snow.

I hear spring peepers
and imagine tadpoles
abundant
on the grassy edges of our pond.

When the last snow falls (is it the last?)
I welcome back the robins
and catch glimpses of opossums
soaking in the sun on their near naked bodies.

When tropical breezes mingle
with the cold air,
I open my windows – briefly
to smell the sun baking on the windowsill.

Soon, I will plant window boxes
with petunias and vines.

1st published in families First monthly April 05