Turnover

Talons grasp tree’s armour

Tenderly; the first weeks of Spring

Winter's door, closing tight

Snow has moved out, green moved in

Now Sparrow’s time for flight

Bourne on high he tastes rebirth

Budding whites, braches outstretch

Life awakes from frozen rest

The Sparrow, above, the waking Earth

Soaring on change, the guest of Spring

Who adds new cries to the skies

And adds more soles on the knolls

The guest’s stay is brief though

Its room is bare as the boughs

When fiery leaves grace the floor

 And as the air grows cold

Now old, Sparrow knows

That Winter’s door is open once more