A small breath of wind lifts the mist ‘til more blows in.
Two days, three days frost, has melted
And the birds are in the leaf litter.
The mountain’s voice says
‘Winter is not over yet’
But here in the valleys there is a small respite.
A day or two, perhaps, of gentler thoughts.
The world revolves around us here.
There is lamentation and the groans of fools from afar.
The waves, perceptible and arcane,
Encroach on the plans of contented futures.
But here, for a day or two,
Will be blue calm and the hope
Of buds and roots.
–
simonhlilly 
Thank you Simon! This is such an intimate poem and yet it reaches across the ocean and resonates with my own experience welcoming the earliest beginnings of spring here in Ottawa as we are besieged by “freedom“ protesters.
Thanks, Diane. Balance is a precarious thing. freedom, a rainbow. Only winter, it seems, is content to be itself.