It tunes the timbre of the breeze
A lilting undertone
It taunts the jeweled arm of trees
And bulb of anemone
It warms the frozen ray of sun
And tickles dashing streams
It teases darkness from the dawn
And from despair, fresh dreams
It pleads within cold, willing gales
Softening with hope
The fury rushing over vales
In frigid calliope
And in the frozen atmosphere
An essence, though unseen
Cradles and fills the heart with cheer
And thoughts of budding green
It rustles in the underbrush
Across the stricken earth
It hints within the argent hush
A season of rebirth
What is this sense of grand renewal
Beyond us, hovering?
Why, it is winter’s finest jewel
Those first small hints of spring
© Janet Martin
Yes, it is there! I felt it while hanging out laundry this morning...