When Spring Comes
Aimée M. Bissonette
Illustrated by Erin Hourigan
W
hen spring comes, and streams swell with melted snow
and flowers push up through the dark, damp soil, we have places to go.
The wild world is waking up and we can’t wait to say “hello!” We trek down paths among towering trees, binoculars around our necks.
High above, slate -gray birds croak and chatter.
Every year they return to their nests of sticks and bark. We shout, “Welcome back!”
We roam the wetlands, our boots squishing in the mud, and greet the chorus frogs, awake now from their long winter nap. “Krek ek.”
“Krek ek.”