The In Between

We are in the in between.

In between the stillness of winter
and the heartbeat of spring.
Between shadows and light,
between the absence of movement
and the chaos of life.

Last year’s grass,
yellow and brittle,
wishing for the kindness of fresh snow.
Barren branches,
stark against the cold dawn,
missing their pretty cloak of frost.
Still frozen river,
ice now dark green and rotting,
the force below rising unseen.

Soon will come the promised eruption.
Blades of supernatural green
will overtake their dead shadows,
fresh with bright promises.
Ice will give way
in a crushing flood,
and the water will wash away
all things stark, brittle and barren.

But for now, we wait.
Among the last whispers of winter,
hands on our silent chests
waiting to inhale,
desperate the first breath of spring.

We are in the in between.

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