Snow has sunk into the ground,
beaten and defeated by the soft rays of the sun.
I stare, seated in my kitchen,
at the pleasant pink and blue that peeks from behind the branches of a healing tree,
a tree that has weathered the winter, spurred on by the promise of return and renewal.
The sun rises,
and I rise with it,
birds hide in branches,
singing long forgotten songs,
about a hopeful spring and a happy summer,
as I step into the shower,
washing off my worries,
and hurrying towards hope,
like the healing tree in my back garden.