Spring, the Puppy Season
Nature knows the many greens,
The sour jealous tantrum scenes
To which the other seasons cling,
Should they but hear the name of spring.
New beginnings soon to mesh,
Summer never quite so fresh,
Autumn's tired fruits expire,
Winter's waiting patient ire.
Leaf points struggle through the snow,
The crocus grows so close below,
A breeze with flower-nectar'd bees,
Woodpecker drumbeats in the trees.
Beginning plenty or promise mere,
Tree buds, owl hoots, peepers, hear
Songbirds sing with mate-search meter,
The titmouse chirping, "Peter, Peter!"
Saints renewed and lambs at play,
The old may feel young, they say,
Airy atoms with magic sing,
Ah, to smell the earth in spring.
March 17, 2017
Copyright © Doug Vinson | Year Posted 2017
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