March winds begin to stir,
You hear the sound there of.
Like the Holy Spirit blowing,
Unseen, but filled with love.
The seasons change and the time.
Days are longer than before.
An hour of sleep, or sunset later.
Who could ask for more?
The precious memory of sacrifice,
Resurrection Day,
The love of Jesus flowing life,
Into each new spring day.
The winter's cold we may feel,
A nip in the air, a sudden chill.
But the sun is warm against my back.
And I never mind a butterfly attack.
They chase me in the spring,
Kisses from the Son,
And I embrace them fully,
Spring winds blowing every one.
Rebecca Jones
