NaPoWriMo 4 — The Cruellest Month

This month has been the cruellest so far,
false starts and hopes tugging at my heart.
The pathetic fallacy of awaiting Spring;
tightly curled buds and leaves fearful of a late frost.
I watch the skeletal branches splayed beneath the sky
and think of the promise of next month.
Things will be lighter, brighter and full of colour.
Amber sunsets and cerulean skies
replacing steel grey and pale, watery sunlight.

These faint traces of Spring are not enough,
they tease and taunt with trembling hesitancy
and fill my heart with a relentless, fragile hope.