Rising (Poetry)

We swim the air along with trees —
we bud, we leaf, we sway...
the breeze that lifts and moves our hearts
blows warmer day by day.

Imagined birds hop twig to twig —
they sing to us and brood
their blue-shelled eggs where poems sleep
dream-cradled in the wood.

Gone — cruel gales of winters past
cold comas deep in snow
now sun has tickled all awake
the hope-filled sap will flow.