Winter Writings: Day 61

Spring flies back to me on many colored wings. The muted earth colors of a flying wedge of Canada geese; the bright red and yellow of a blackbird's shoulder; the rust-orange breast under brown robin's wings; and the tropical green of a hummingbird singing his territorial song from the top of a still-naked tree on the trail. These are the flowers of the air; the leaves of the still bare trees. The busy gathering of nesting material and shrill mating calls leave no doubt that winter is finally coming to an end. Even now, the crocus peek out of the ground and the frogs sing a happy chorus. The cycle of life begins again.