Spring
copyright Dawn Thebarge Hill
The crone wears her shroud of ice proudly
Like and honour she has earned, it cloaks her.
The young and viral Sun
Envelopes her in his loving embrace.
She turns to him and smiles, knowing that the time has come
For him to remove the icy coverlet with his warmth
As it slips away, so do the years upon her face
And in their place the lovely Maiden Spring is found.
