The Coming of Spring

Snow-crusted mountains stand against
The distant horizon like motionless glaciers
Resting upon the frozen Artic Sea.
Impacted snow in the shape of footprints
Make their way up the every-steeping hillside,
And fall silent as a whisper at my feet.
For three long months, I have sought to outdistance
My stalker, eluding his approach as swiftly
As the shadow shirks the rising sun.
But today my journey will end, as exile shall be
The reward of my months of ceaseless labor.
From distant valleys even, I feel the warmth
Of my successor approach as the clouds in the
Heavens part their canopy and allow the
Sun to glisten against the frosted world.
My legs, weak and weary, crumple beneath me
As my mind recounts the brief moment of existence
That was my short-lived, yet full life.
And as I slowly melt into the earth, to sleep
Among the dead, I hold no fears, for in nine months
I shall be reborn from earth’s womb
And embrace the cycle once more.