Rebirth

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.