If I were going to write a poem

If I were going to write a poem about today--
It would have to express the hope that's in the air.
Almost imperceptible except for this tug at my spirit--
Whispering at my soul's ear, too, if I'm being honest.
Like the weather--transitional,
Making way for change.
Winter can't hold on when the temp keeps rising,
With buds forming, breeze blowing, weeds popping up.
(They always precede the grass greening
And perennials re-emerging, don't they?)
Something is happening; mostly unseen,
But real activity nonetheless.
The loneliness and isolation during a gray season
Of hibernation suddenly turn into re-aquaintance
Or new connections with signs of life.
Colorado hasn't seen an actual spring yet, but I am feeling it.

I can't hurry winter's departure, but I can embrace the signs of life
As I encounter them.
Vital occurances take place underground.
They are as necessary in bringing re-birth from dormancy
As water and sunlight are later in the cycle.
If I were going to write a poem about today--
It would have to express the relief I feel
About what I'm perceiving.
We may get more snow, but the season has changed.