Whispering Time by Virginia Hainsworth

Earth spheres swelling,

shrouded in darkness,

sensing new warmth,

hearing the whispers.

Faintly at first

then beginning to call.

Needing to grow,

to cast off the clods,

not daring to breathe.

Follow the sounds,

words on the breeze

resounding within.

Slowly emerging

from winter repose,

the whispers of springtime

beckon the brave.

The first to appear.

in shy revelation.

And, confidence growing,

‘midst burgeoning green,

displaying their treasures,

each bud becomes bloom.

The whispering fades.

Spring’s song is beginning.