Poem: New beginings

At the edge of a turning world, it begins—
not with thunder, but a quiet shift in light.
Morning stretches a little wider,
breathing gold into corners once held by gray.

The air feels different on your skin,
like a promise you can’t quite name.
Branches, once bare as whispered secrets,
now hum with the courage of small green things.

Footsteps sound softer on waking,
as if the ground itself is listening—
waiting for laughter, for rain, for life
to return in bright, unguarded colors.

This is how a season begins:
not all at once, but in gentle insistence—
a bird daring the silence,
a bud risking the cold,
a heart remembering how to hope.

Thank-you for reading.

Brenda Marie