It's been rather cold and dreary;
The very sun seemed weak and weary.
The trees are bare,
The skies are grey.
In the cold wind
The branches sway.
But deep within
The call of Spring
Is made...and heard..
By every living thing.
Today the sun shone;
The sky was blue...
I looked up...and I saw
The new buds, too.
It's when warmth seems furthest away
That little buds begin to form:
I must seek the buds of hope when it's cold..
I need not wait until it's warm.
The promise of the warmth to come
Is held within the bud...about to blossom.