There is so much goodness
In a warm sunny afternoon on winters ebb.
Its warmth caresses my aching joints
And eases too, my hearts grief-
Not that the grief is gone-
But a cold dreary winters day
Reflects my grief
Back on itself, a sad and tarnished mirror.

A sunny February afternoon,
When the promise of spring looks to be real
(A promise made that will be kept not broken)
It whispers to me that this is life-
That my father died after the winter,
That my mother died after the winter,
That I may die after a winter,
And then my children and their children
Will each die.

Maybe on a soft spring day,
maybe not.

But each February there will be a warm afternoon,
solitary and splendid.
And life will seem easier somehow
And the heart lighter.

And that will be enough
Until April comes.