Sonnet For Spring
Spring marches its way south, inundating
the winter steeled earth struggling to drink
the season’s flood. So I bide time, waiting
for thirsty trees to flourish red and pink.
Yet when the heavens seal their divine doors
and the portal outdoors reopens wide
the red-pink promises of spring are floors
of brownish, brackish sludge when rain subsides
The birds are singing, or are they crying?
The mud is clinging to every footfall
Grasping with desperation, decrying
walks in the woods, holding me in its thrall
So I yield to the season’s iron will
and listen to the songbird’s somber trill
Copyright © C.W. Bryan | Year Posted 2023
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