Sister Spring

Some say she awoke 
with the first daffodil
on the very last breath of frost.
As earth turned
something wiggled
as creatures gathered 
something grew.
And up from the dirt 
popped a wee green girl    
a stirring, uncurling dear thing 
with roots and sprouts and fingers and toes
and we called her Sister Spring. 
In the arms of animals
in a yard of vines
we hugged and loved her up.   
She kissed the sky a fair sunrise
and sang the mourning dove 
she called the fog from the woods and bog
and charmed the trees abloom    
She sent the fishy off to school
and gave the cloud a shower
she poured the peepers in the pond
and filled the hills with thunder. 
Then she called to us all. 
We colored the eyes of the dragonflies
and danced the meadow yellow
we held the light in the moon that night
and dreamed the seeds of the morrow.
Some say she awoke 
with the first daffodil
on the very last breath of frost.
A stirring, uncurling dear thing 
with roots and sprouts and fingers and toes
and we called her Sister Spring.