My heart is like a singing bird,
it's song falls on the waking ear,
and makes my heart fly up
and out, into the cold spring air.
The ground, still frozen, crucnhes,
but the morning song is sweet.

It is this morning I waited for,
through the dreary, heartless
winter that took too much, and hurt
too long. Birds and sky are all
I need to let the dead be dead,
and let my spirit wake and feel.