The sky a canopy of cold
In the silence where no bird sings,
Vile is winter, bitter, old,
Yet beneath the snow, what wealth springs;
The ice locked land bides ts time,
Life urges checked in dormant state
Comes the breath of warmer climes,
Green shoots surge, the snow cap breaks;
These dry and weathered walnut trees
Withered black in shielded bark
There springs a shoot, despite the freeze,
The new heard melody of the lark.
David McLansky
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/riff-on-richard-remier-s-february-kiss/
