Spring Is Blooming

The birds are singing merrily. The sun is burning off the fog. Somewhere nearby, I hear a frog, Oh wait, I think that might be me. Sometimes it’s pretty hard to tell; I’m guessing spring has now arrived. The senses just feel less alive With hampered hearing, stifled smell. I know the telltale sign so well, So I will not believe those lies. For I can look with my own eyes: The redbuds have begun to swell. So I will suffer spring’s embrace. A mixed bag, for I love these trees Which coincide with snot-filled sneeze, For there is beauty in this place. ---------- (form: Italian Quatrain)