A Winter Butterfly

March turns, still snow clings stubbornly to the hills.
And though I long for spring to come,
The silent crystal beauty of winter gone
A warmth to melt the heart that beats alone
Easter hatchlings welcomed to my home

I feel a tear run down the craggy slopes
And long for dreams of stillness, mountain hopes,
Yet all must flow until the rivers burst
To drench the sleeping meadows
To quench the summer thirst.