Sang-froid

The faciated willow
is bursting into bloom.
I cut some of its catkins
to carry to my room.
I add a bit of color from
an early daffodil
just as a beam of sunshine spills
across my window sill.

January's been contrary
with many days of gray,
but little February comes
to send him on his way.
With the worst of winter over
there are sure signs of spring
hiding happily with patience
in every growing thing.

With such promises around me
to inspire my cheery rhyme,
I take a cue from Nature;
nestle in and bide my time.

By: Joyce 01/30/06