Let this story unfold,

As nature is stripped of sleepy white gray.

Between dripping ice,

And soft running water.

Something grows within sight,

As a secret brought into the light.

Truth will find a way,

Devoid of shame and pinpricked with guilt.

We are on the edge of an ever changing sphere,

A voice ready to take flight and sing.

Oh how this moment is soon upon us,

Now let us sing of spring.

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Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.