Mind On Spring Harp

Morning emerged out of night dark. Shy sun began to show its face, It streaked the night sky with daylight, The dawn was striking and clear, Blue azure sparkled in the spectacle of sunlight, I left warmth of cozy bed to catch that sight, Stretching limbs to get off sleep stupor, My nostrils widened to heavenly fragrance, It was spring time, And everybody could feel its vapor, Each leg movement was up and about, As if it was springed all right, Zest flowed abound, And eyes searched far and beyond, Wherever they were laid, Colored canopy of blooms was in raid, Red, blue, geen, yellow, pink and what not, My little garden was witness to it all, Blooms had been ripening and had now broken free, They smiled as if coy and confident bride, I ambled across to the green carpet, And stopped at a riotous bloom, Cool wind blew across, And they all began to zoom, This bloom was as if a search light, Instilling delight and dispelling all gloom, I was a late riser, Many had awaken before me, There was activity on the room, And it was on the riotous bloom, Little pale streaked honey bees were in flight, Flying now and then landing right, They were busy gathering nectar, And possibly ready to ferry it home, No! Was it a beginning of a new home? No it was not; I saw it sharp and clear, Developed broken wax cubicles lay in vantage, Right there near the bloom, Looking as if it had been a part of bee home, And now was a little home stand alone, There was a rebel mother bee, Or my imagination was on a spring, To make most of the spring, These little bees had brought in their home, They could not wait to get home, Now here they worked, And here they stored, I watched it for a time, Before it struck me real hard, If little bees could use spring thus, Why I could not, I had a lesson indeed sharp, And my mind was hooked to the spring harp.