Winter Writings: Day 51

I see her push the window open...
tentatively...as if afraid
to let the world in
"What will they say?"
Her dressed only in
an old robe and slippers.
But the promise of spring
sung sweetly by the wind
from the back of a seaworn salmon
plying the whitecap waves of the river
and answered by the chorus of songbirds
celebrating the return of the sun,
slips in to stroke her time worn face
and she remembers...
She throws the window wide
and as the air swirls gently into her bare room,
old memories come alive in her heart,
of holding spring in her arms
and marveling at his
tiny hands and feet
and bluebonnet eyes.