the birds are chirping
calling for spring
yet snow covers the ground
the warmth of the sun on the back
calling for spring
yet biting wind strikes the face
the tips of the branches hold tiny buds
yet the tree looks cold and and bare
the afternoons are lighter, brighter
yet the chill hangs on
the leaves of the bulbs appear
yet the flowers stay hidden
spring
not yet
let's observe 
Not yet, but soon, right? You’ve captured this transitional time so well in your poem. I noticed some pussy willows and buds just this weekend–while I was wearing my down coat and a hat and maneuvering through the snow!
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So many signs of spring. I can feel the anticipation and patience in this poem.
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Bob did see some robins yesterday but other than the drip of melting and apple blossoms in the Whole Foods, I am left with only hope.
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“the warmth of the sun on the back
calling for spring
yet biting wind strikes the face”
This is so true! Maybe this week will bring a warmer change…
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The repetition of “calling for spring” seems to capture a desperate desire, a desire for winter to end. I’m definitely with you! Loved this poem!
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This is exactly how it feels. Spring is such a tease!
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I love this structure–yet, yet, “not yet.” So much is waiting under the snow blanket including hope. Thanks for this today.
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This is great. Love the structure and the repetition. Such a vivid picture in my mind when ending reading this poem.
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Oh yes, the chill IS hanging on. BUT….I heard the first whooping crane call and saw the first two Red Winged Blackbirds today so spring MUST be on its way. 🙂
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The yet, yet, yet followed by the not yet pulled me along and then stopped me cold. Takes a little longer for that spring to answer the call here in Maine. Patiently waiting!! Thanks for this enticing slice!
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