The robins are singing again.
I hear their laughter outside my window.
And it’s a pink moon tonight.
Something special, or at least some guy say one time…
Wandering in this limbo of in between.
Tired of the snow. When’s it leavin’?
Wish winter would stay to its respective season.
The birds claim it’s here. They have faith I sometimes find hard to attain. Especially when the air’s still biting like that hungry wolf.
So I follow their confident song when my own notes are tangled up inside.
I lost my way this early spring. But I’m comin’ home.
Home under the Pink Moon tonight.