Rebirth
In the spring the buds will open
On our old crabapple tree,
A pristine gift for a maiden,
Snowy white for all to see.
An ideal place for a robin
Come to build a nest or feed,
With the warming of the season,
Also for the chickadee.
With the rain the falling blossoms
Make way for its dark green leaves,
A sun shade for the lamium,
Growing underneath the tree.
And so it goes with each rebirth
After winter yields the earth.