The sun across her cheek,

she stretches her arm to the right.

The bed empty, ruffled, cold.

Her eyes open wider and adjust to the light

as her ears begin to wake up

slowly tuning into the sounds of morning.

Soft thumps of bare feet on hardwood floors.

Pots and pans clatter and shuffle.

An out of tune melody floats down the hall

--the humming of an old James Taylor song.

The smell of coffee,

entwined with greasy bacon

and chocolate chip pancakes follows it.

She thinks about getting up,

joining him.

But she waits a moment longer

enjoying the how he lives

when no one is watching.

How lovely it is when spring comes around.

When soft greens peak out of the ground.                                         

The sun seems to shine in a different way,

when out into its glow, children come to play.

While flowers bloom, new noses to trigger,

the creek bubbles with a renewed vigor.                                           

But even so a distinct smell seem to stay

while the remnants of winter melt away.

The subtle scent of dead leaves still lingers,

as winter fades and slips through your fingers.                                 

Things once white, turn from brown and then to green.

Things thought to be dirty, in the rains, come clean.

All things fresh and new--ready to be born again.