There are spring times of betrayal when
having survived the ice storms of winter
the ice remains.
With windows open and fresh air filtering
through seasonal screens, a harshness
more bitter than sleet comes to stand
at the broken heart.
Muse nudges, It is wise to witness where
your gaze naturally falls and this morning
you are looking into spring.
Far beyond betrayal stands forsythia, limber
and swaying outside the window within your vision.
No matter the sting of despair at being
dismissed from another’s good graces the first
glint of spring’s change captures your attention
and on your shoulder naps the afternoon sun.
Flowering yellow cascades are the soul image
the eye takes in as hope steps forward and
wraps the stricken heart in a softness of petals.
Life continues richer and sweeter than ever
before as you let your freedom ring . . .