In winter’s white, as angels cry
for early spring to warm the wind,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned.
For early spring to warm the wind,
at Valentine’s romantic calls,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls.
At Valentine’s romantic calls,
rebirth of nature’s light divine,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls,
and blossoms pastel shades recline.
Rebirth of nature’s light divine,
when day equals the hours of night,
and blossoms pastel shades recline,
to hail the queen of May in light.
When day equals the hours of night,
a summer’s sun will come to play,
to hail the queen of May in light,
we chant and sing along the way.
A summer’s sun will come to play,
so life can grow as gods decreed,
we chant and sing along the way,
with warmth and light our hunger feed.
So life can grow as gods decreed,
the rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
with warmth and light our hunger feed,
the wealth of harvest is our own.
The rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
in autumn breeze that chills the heat,
the wealth of harvest is our own,
as gold and red belies our feet.
In autumn breeze that chills the heat,
a year that ends with blessed Samhain,
as gold and red belies our feet,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign.
A year that ends with blessed Samhain,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign,
in winter’s white, as angels cry.
Copyright © Jemmy Farmer
Among tall weeds are waving tulips, with satin pearls of dew
Blowing trumpets, and brushing grasses, with shades of cheerful tunes
Creating carpets soft and fair, where every eye can rest,
Dancing petals kiss the breezes, in flirting dalliance
Each breath of wind, caresses strands, of lupine, blending in
Foxglove, flax, and buckwheat stand, so slender on their stems
Green buds, fragile, on the limbs, of trees in cloisters, high
Have opened bliss upon the ridge, while clouds are passing by
Ivy tendrils wrap the oaks, which grow exempt from time
Just as God would wrap a heart with joy at Easter time
Keeping watch, a hawk swoops down, to scout a meadow's floor
Looming high, it circles 'round, in time for afternoon
Morning 's sun has long been gone,, and left a touch of warm
Night had left a trail of showers, from the passing storm
Opened flowers, bask in sunlight, breaking through the cold
Pastel colors, and fragrant blossoms, paint the world in gold
Question not the splendid wonder, it's ours now to explore
Rejoice with eyes, behold and conquer, spring is at our door
Saturate the heart with "happy", as the day unfolds
To stand, alone, and hear the songs, birds and bees have told
Underneath the cloak of springtime, is all that we could ask
Voices call within the wind, and meadow larks will ask
Will we take this world for granted, or leave it to the rest?
Xanadu is ours to own, nature at it's best
You came, you saw, a sign of spring.......and
Zenith, is its name
For The Abecedarian Contest: "Spring"
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Copyright © Carrie Richards
I do not know?
Unknown to those with no curiosity
Buds, that dream of one day blooming
Being, more than they are
Touched by those who love
Protected by those who wish to love
Wishing to be more than they are
Buds, not truly knowing if they are ready for the world
Hoping they are strong enough
Wishing to be the best
You, Me, Us, Everyone
Copyright © Michi Watts
Mid-spring, skinny, black, blind
eastern tent caterpillars -
Malacosoma americanum -
falling from the cherry tree
leaning, human, over our deck.
Irksome. Mash and kick
them with my feet, continue
practicing or reading.
Three weeks later, reading
late at night. Heavy-bodied
black-eyed, reflexed antennae -
many hundreds of moths
crave the lamplight, some attaining
extinction through cracks
around the window screen. Vexing.
Until next morning, I look
up the name that has eluded me
all spring and early summer.
The single-minded moth and larval colony -
one small monophony.
Copyright © Robert Ronnow