the fourth.

vibrant green,
almost yellow;
the exclamation point at the end
of the mild breeze's whispered rumour

that the heavens are scheming,
the damp bark is brewing;
there are smiles now hidden in the tree-trunks' wrinkles,
where last month a grimace

braced the cold

with a sigh,

we collectively collapse into it;
watching a lingering auburn leaf still
wearily clutching on to its post...
now dangling precariously,
now dancing to the earth,
following its cue, with relief, upon seeing
a new generation sprout up to assume their duties,
as they proclaim new life -
themselves the living testament that
from brittle twigs
a voice can breathe hope.

i tuck a smile into the corners of my eyes as i watch spring burst through the weary earth.