The beginning of spring is an exercise in caution
The very tips of buds
The faintest hints of shoots and
Lone notes of bird song
Punctuated by stillness.
It is the world at its most simple
The barest, strictest branches of life
Sent forth in hope
That they will not be claimed
By the retreating tendrils of winter.
I am always heartened by how the world persists in the face of constant setbacks.