There is something magical about the first hints of spring,
It feels like a spell has been lifted and every breeze is a breath of hope.
Perhaps a group of witches formulated winter as a reminder to be quiet,
To listen to yourself, to let your soul to howl at the moon for a while.
Perhaps snow was made to absorb the noise and allow introspection,
Providing a time to sleep, perchance, to dream.
Then, with impeccable timing, there are bird songs and budding trees,
Reminding us that out of every silent meditation there comes a deeper joy
That awakens us to the sound of neighbors and laughter,
Dogs barking and lawnmowers warming up.
The witches knew that both seasons offer invaluable gifts,
For without the silence of winter, who would truly appreciate the sounds of spring?
Maybe there is a cauldron filled with snow that melts, revealing a tiny bloom of hope,
And we are responsible for thanking the snow, and nurturing the bud.
For there is no season of life that is wrong, no season which means more than another,
There is simply the magic brewed by change, by the dynamic nature of earth,
Which, like the soul, understands that change is the only thing
That keeps the journey interesting and us awake to every possible experience.
So here’s to winter, and here’s to spring,
May one silence you, and one help you sing.