Spring Written In The Style Of F.I. Tyutchev (1803-73) Poem by Ron Lane

Winter sun and winter snow.
The air is still, the shadows blue.
Nature’s dead, for all we know –
or awaiting endless, true,
resplendent resurrection.

Bare trees murmur to each other
sleepy dreams of better things,
earth shoots rise to seek their Mother –
Spring will spread her shining wings
in wondrous insurrection.

Every year Enchantress Nature,
shrugging off Death’s feeble snows,
bathes, more beautiful than ever,
in her tingling streams, and glows
with timeless, pure perfection.

(2010)