M Minakshi Devi
Frosty mornings ,tingling fingers and piercing gust,
Remains now a talk of the past
A rich warm colour overhaul the snowy hue, Of days nearing , long scarlet and green.
The grim cold now sits veiled in shadow ,
Liberating strong gale,soaring through the valley.
Breaking the brittle bondage between the cold and warm.
Talking what it please of future spring
And sun-warm’d sweet to-morrow.
No more a campfire,no more a crisp winter hike.
No more walking on snowshoes,
As it’s now time to walk on sand trails like we normally do.
The air has an aroma of springlike fog .?A new dawn now revealing trees and everything new.
Oh,it's a moment of sorrow that unfolds.
As I now see omen of spring being born ?
And hear the clamor of the fading cold.