Spring Sounds
It's quiet now, too quiet for Spring:
Sere-brown matted grasses huddle close,
Clinging tightly to patches of congealed Earth,
Nature's chill bosom flinty and unyielding.
No wind yet whips up tremble in bush or tree--
Branches too-long barren of bud or twig--
Or ruffles gentle water's surface in the brook or stream
Of wild woods and forests, yet napping darkly...
...'Til warm breezes whisper, stirring souls and spirits:
Then do wondering necks snap to attention, nostrils flare,
Eyes widen, ears like antennae, twitch on high-alert.
Then do voices emerge, as waving grasses secrete their dew,
As tree buds burst forth, tiny gnarled knobs rubbing rheum drops
From their orbs, freeing visions from winter's howl.
Spring newly resurgent, resplendent, glorious, Inviting!
--As lovers loll the sandy beach, mingling with the moonbeams.
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