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Dissipated Is The Spring's Storm
Dissipated is the spring's storm never anticipated,
the expectation of calmness remains far-fetched.
No violet cloud wants to fade from the brilliant sky
that fought a fierce storm over a valley so lovely:
the glaring sunlight persists as my wonderment increases;
stranded puppies seek their mother lost from their memory!
Would the rosiest girl's cheeks drip with the coldest tears
from a balcony that was festive, if gone were all her lilies?
It's worrisome to hang on anxiety or doubt,
and Adeline asks herself a similar question:
she loved lively spring and its mirthful sounds,
adorning each corner of the house with scented flowers!
Will a pretty rainbow appear over the shimmering horizon?
That would be a sign of hope, a relief from distraught!
Boys run out to play baseball in the nearby semi-wet field,
grandma sits on the porch and starts knitting a blanket:
it's a self-gift to keep her feet warm from the windows draft;
there's a spying glance in her alertness with lips unsealed!
When storms dissipate from any sky, put on the happiest smile,
whether or not that vivid rainbow appears to make moods bright;
many more storms will come, it's a pause from a possible plight:
be ready to battle them without dread, show defiance and guile!!
Copyright ©
Andrew Crisci
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