Last of the snow is finally melting.
Before it goes, I’ll walk outside,
Lie down upon the ground to
Drink the very last before I turn around,
Look for robins on the greening lawn….
To listen deeply for approach of spring.
Sitting here, my leg’s asleep—
A little taste of death for now,
But easy to correct— I’ll open window
To March wind and allow the chill to blow.
Dancing through the house,
Heaviness of tingling leg
Disappears just like the snow.
Outside the birds are screaming,
Waiting for a crust of bread.
I die a little more along with snow,
Longing in my heart now flowing
As I bend my head to drink.