Early Spring

As winter’s grip constricts the countryside,
And fearsome frosts descend to choke the land,
Then all the florae in a final stand
Do breathe their last and wither there to die.
Though not a flake has yet to strike from high
Above to scar the hills with winter’s brand;
The ashen clouds above will soon command
Their icy legions flurry from the sky.

But let us not despair the world out there;
Our passion soon will overwhelm such things
Igniting then with such great magnitude
We’ll catch this frigid season unawares
And melt the cold to bring an early spring
So all may feel the warmth in us imbued.