Spring

Slanted sunlight’s stretched shadow
Chips away white layers. Pines
Don’t forget the fall ago.
Forest trees boast thicker spines.
Brown remains, but yet in slow
Reaches come the vernal vines.
Grow, little optimists, grow.

I can’t speak for everything,
Too much left for certainty.
Tomorrow’s presence may bring
Beaten frost caked on a tree,
Or a sapling’s single wing.
But that is enough for me:
Hope is all I need for spring.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre