Winter to Spring Poem

I stare.
Cold, unblinkingly.
The landscape is cold, is barren, is gray.
I have waited a many long cold months. Patiently waiting for that first shoot to force it's way through the frozen soil. Patiently waiting for the the canvas that is the Earth be blessed with the colors that are spring.
I fall asleep, waiting all the while.
Waiting, even in my unconcious state.
The sun has risen, and I wait no longer.
The ground is littered with tiny shoots, and I inhale the fresh sweet air of an early spring.
Seasons changed. (see more)