Claim the earth with your leafy limbs;
It is yours to keep, for these fleeting ninety days.
You, the eternally youthful,
Weave your art of revivification delicately, softly.
Brighten the scene with your young ones,
Layered, velvet pastels whose sighs fill the air.
Transform me, too, in this season of yours.
Make me your bud, and I will bloom:
A newborn, kissed with dew and much improved.

Your children will push and shove their way up
Through the stiff fingers of thawing ground.
Having taken root in the ones vanquished by your cold sister,
They will grow from those dull corpses.
I will watch them leave footprints everywhere,
With their long, slender, foliage-adorned legs,
As if to etch a lasting mark on the world.
But their efforts are undone:  
With every browning petal, every withering leaf.