For weeks this field has lived with its mouth wide open; gulping down mounds of snow that compiled during the blizzard. At last it soaks up the last layer of moisture and a full beard of green re-emerges.
Sometimes it takes time, but green always re-emerges.
The sunbeams dance off this plot of land to showcase its’ transition. It has become a field again, freshly liberated from the persona of being a stretch of winter on display.
Winter doesn’t last forever.
The soil is saturated. You can all but hear the buzz of new things racing to the surface. Sprouts will explode up out of the soil soon, and litter the land with new life.
Winter saturates the ground.
But the air is still cold. The sky will still swell at times with white flakes, the wet land will still become ice overnight. The ground presents itself ready, but the air needs more time.
Premature change ends in freezing.
The fading of winter is a process. But my heart is encouraged because the least I know is that something is changing. I am seeing green again. I have drunk to capacity of winter. The last layer of it is being soaked up.