Coming Spring

It comes on the wind. It comes on the breeze. It comes through my roots. A drop of life where there was none. A single gem of dew hangs on my branches and refuses to freeze. The clouds flow over me, bringing the hint of another life. It was a life I once knew, but have forgotten. It was a life that filled me and then faded. It is the cycle turned once more to repeat itself.

I breathe in and it fills my lungs. It is the freshness of a new year. It is a chance to start over, a chance to begin again.

The year brings with it a new chain of events. The year brings something new. I look out and wonder what will be new. What will have changed? What has died in this passing winter that will not be resurrected this spring? What is coming that I have never seen before?

I look up and see them coming. They come in ones and twos. They come in hoards. They drift back from the south, filling the forest once again. They settle back into their homes. They clean out their nests. They make new ones.

I watch them gathering sticks and fuzz. They line their homes with the down they find and prepare it for their children. Soon the forest will be full. Soon the forest will be full of the sound of singing. We will sing a new song, for a new season has come.