Like scouts, they arrive
quietly and unannounced -
soldiers of spring,
but weaponless,
only harbingers of the larger regiment to follow.
A footprint, more muddy than icy -
A bush, which upon first glance
is skeletal and withered…
on closer inspection,
east gazing buds timidly peek
towards the warmth.
Midday shadows grow stronger
as the sun steps
haltingly northward.
A bird
in its nest newly formed,
and eggs freshly laid,
cries warning.
Heat, in fits and starts,
struggles to break through the Arctic breeze-
asking it to go back north
until next season.
There will be stronger
and more glorious
soldiers to arrive.
Tulips, the Trumpeters.
Daffodils, the Flag Bearers.
The bees and the pollen, the Enlisted.
But for now, the land belongs
to the firstborn of spring.
LOVE!!!!!!!!!!