Tug of War

I tilt my head back,

let the sun touch my face

The rays are hot, strong, intense

Heating my face, making my cheeks red and hot

The rays of spring,

Quickly turning the rooftop snow to water

Hitting the puddle below

The sense of spring is tickling my spirits

I hear the busy woodpecker,

I hear the chirping birds

Spring is approaching

Warming me up

Then I hear it,

The wind, traveling through the pine

Rushing to tell me differently

I remove my hands from my pockets get the hair out of my face,

but quickly put them back again

The tug of war has begun,

between winter and spring.

by Annelie Connolly