The dreary land is grey and cold,
confined within the icy hold
of winter, like a prison cell,
in which we all must grimly dwell,
and yet the blossomed promise grows;
exuberant in soft repose.
Beneath the ground the rising tide
of verdant life is undefied.
Though lying now in dormant rest,
such vibrancy is unsuppressed;
a whimsical awakening ,
announcing the return of spring.
