The last slight frosty clear winter day
is burning down in a bright pinkish sunset.
The willows bask in the warm scarlet rays
and widely fluff the silver silky pussies.
The pinky-white awoken birches branches
are decorated by the frost with tiny
transparent beads and colored in a wag
of sunset brush in gleaming motley icicles.
The sunset glows and burns down to small grains
the priceless treasures of the cold severe winter.
They vanish fast, bright sparkling in a blaze,
to blue-wing birds' unceasing lilting twitter.
The modest jays are jumping, flapping wings,
in a strange dance with the enchanting calm cries.
They're strongly calling a romantic spring
that will be born at an amazing sunrise.
by Thea Ariss 29.02.2024/3.03.2024