A Sonnet for Spring

The world is dead; the earth is cold and bare,
Though frosts are gone and melted is the snow.
The grass turned brown and yellow long ago,
And trees from leafless branches starkly stare.
The heavy greyness of the clouded sky
Threatens thunder, beguiles with hope of rain
That does not come. The Winter's deathly stain
Is left upon the lifeless land to lie.
But from this grey decay and yellow death,
A single blade of green, a living sprout,
Arises, opens out, new hope to bring.
And rains shall come, and breezes warm as breath;
From darker clouds than these has struggled out
The Sun ere now. Have hope! Await the Spring!

T. G. 3/29/20