Slow Dance

There is waxing and waning in the air,
the seasons begin their dance of change.
Winter and spring visit around a tree stump
topped with snow like a marshmallow as a table cloth,
having a cup of tea.
Winter shares "I am bowing out early this year, are you up for your dance?".
Spring smiles as birds land on her shoulders,
her womb full of the promise of flowers, insects and leaves.
As morning rays of light flood through the forest,
winter sparkles in the morning sun.
At the same time,
springs presence is tangible.
Tis a slow dance these two do,
here in the NW of Montana.
A slow lively dance.