Before my head rises
I hear melodic tunes
Sounds of mourning doves
Looking for morsels of food
Under the bird feeders 
I rise willingly
At last, maybe Spring is here
Green shoots poke
Tiny heads above wet ground
Reaching upward
Strong and true
Bravely tolerating icy chill
I rise willingly
Praying Spring is in the air
Beautiful and hopeful!! Nature is so resilient, isn’t it?
You are so right, Sally! Sometimes we aren’t as resilient. I love your “hopeful” wording. Spring is on the way. Blessings, Teresa