I stepped outside

to do a foolish

thing, to take a

gas fed lantern out

into the snow, to

see the golden glow

upon the field of

perfect white, to

hear the hiss before

the dawn, to feel

the days of camping,

farming and reliance

when out there in

the yet quite night

I heard birds

singing, not a few

on barren branches

and a flock of

something else above

the clouds and

I realized Spring

had come and what

I foolishly thought

to do was not

foolishness at all.