Springtime Coming
Published in
Jun 14, 2024
A poem by my grandmother from 1981
The March winds blow,
The sun hies behind billowing clouds,
Buds are beginning to show
On the maples and the lilacs.
Birds sing a lonely song,
Knowing and waiting for spring before long.
There is a promise I can see
In the sun, wind and every tree.
*My grandmother was 73 when she wrote this poem.
