by Charlie Tarbell
First you notice the warmth
Caressing your neck and back
While you walk
On the snow-packed surface
Then there is that smell
Almost a taste
A familiar mélange of earth and mold and life
It intrudes and distracts
while you patrol for animal tracks
on the north shore of Keoka
Meanwhile the sounds are more diverse
The echoless chill begins to animate
Birds calling, roofs dripping, brooks babbling
With a living, growing cacophony
You absentmindedly leave the gloves behind
Touch is restored; fingers feel the nascent warmth
A big pine branch, victim of a winter storm,
feels rough and sappy in the noontime sun
At last, you see!
Eyes opened from winter slumber
The lake is opening, ice receding
The snow cover yields its secrets
Spring creeps in and excites your senses