counting the days until spring

Antsy,
she couldn’t stay still.
Pacing wall to wall,
she could almost smell the damp earth
under the frozen crust
as the sound of sleet
echoed against the fossil dimpled stone.
Her thoughts drifted to warm dawns
filled with perfume of sweet grass
and whining of midges-
her breath quickened
with the rising sap
tapped deep under the winters crust.
She could hear green things
begin to stir,
bulbs burgeoning with embryonic april.
A blush rose from her breasts
to pink her cheeks,
leaving her face glistening
with the heat of june afternoons.
A carpet of green followed in her footsteps
as chamomile and bluets
bloomed in her wake.
Climbing with each change of shadow,
anticipation springing from the tilted axis,
she rushed to greet the vernal wood
in rapture of spring.