My bootsoles mash through the mud
Of a winter soon to be forgotten,
A winter so long and merciless
Will just vanish like the snow
Now pooling into like lakes
In the grass and running down hills.
Each footstep is noisy as
The robins that returned
To wake me from my winter slumber
And the brown ground slurps
At the messy aftermath.
I stop my march
Halted and disarmed by the silent
Single file row of
Little purple crocuses
Standing at attention.

By Maggie DeCapua, a senior at Stratford High School