Prancing the Season
It is almost spring here in Vermont.
The world is greening. In the fields
lambs are being born, prancing the season.
Never mind the rain, the almost light,
the last vestiges of snow in the hollows.
or the threat of snows in the month ahead.
the promise is enough
About this poem
We humans run on hope. If there is hope, we can endure anything.
Or it can be about Spring. Reader’s choice.
PS: The picture was taken in nearby Pawlet, Vermont.