الربيع

I watch the soft unfurling of the fisted flowers
tiny buds, competing to reach
the finish line
the slight trembling of the trees
swaying to the Northern winds
and the gathering of the crows
in the quiet, misted mornings.
There isn’t much to say except
watch with complete bewilderment
how the world as you know
transforms
in the passing of the days
in the shadow of the night
and
in just a blink of an eye