Spring tiptoed through Rockfish Valley
Last week, almost imperceptibly at first.
Then She touched the brown grass and it
Turned green; She touched the bare branches
And tiny buds appeared.


Spring breezed in through Three Ridges
on a whisper-thin waft of mist.
Her warm fingers melted the snow
And ice, and water coursed faster
Down Stoney Creek to the tumbling rocks below.


Spring danced through lacy mountain laurels
Ever so gently, lifting away the cold, stale air.
Her lilting voice coaxed robins
Into song and bears to
Abandon their winter residence.


Spring scampered up and down the
Appalachian Trail, leaving a renascent breath
Of air in Her stead. ‘Cross mountain and vale,
All the wildlife and wildflowers (and I)
Feasted on the delights he bestowed upon us.