Spring Observations
Green slipped out from under the white –
Splashed in early other colours,
And gave up lambs, who
Bleated tirelessly on the subject.
Screams from the nearby park
Told of newly playful children, with
Bleary fathers; clattering mothers,
Undersense befuddled by a perfume –
It was the budding blossom.
And younger men perked up at
Early bosoms once again parading –
More blossom – audacious blooms:
Sexual selection back on stage.
It was happening with the birds,
Only there was more decorum,
More order – a greater sense of purpose;
Unwitting duty.
I turned over the soil – warming
Under the cautious sun –
Yellow still nubile,
Though coping with its shyness.
My first beads of sweat were oddly ambivalent:
Surging vigour forcing out the
Stubborn winter indolence.
Inside, a warming smile worked
Up towards my mouth, lips, eyes.
The kitchen window rattled:
Lunch was ready.

——

My Spring Garden
Here is my little garden,
Some seeds I’m going to sow.
Here is my rake to rake the ground,
Here is my handy hoe.
Here is the big, round yellow sun;
The sun warms everything.
Here are the rain clouds in the sky;
The birds will start to sing.
Little plants will wake up soon,
And lift their sleepy heads;
Little plants will grow and grow
In their little, warm earth beds.

——

The Rainy Day
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary!
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

——

Spring, the Sweet Spring
Spring, the sweet spring, is the year’s pleasant king,
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to witta-woo!

——

THE SEASON OF SPRING
the season of spring
weather seems to sing
lovely lovely days
are coming our ways
the season of spring
blooming blossoming
of nature of all kind
let roots unbind
the season of spring
birds unfold their wings
diving high into sky
wish one could fly
the season of spring
careful hearts love sting
reaching out towards others
some persons might bother
the season of spring
nice sound bells ring
new wave new style
faces have on a smile
the season of spring
an new awakening
busy humanity on earth
as if it’s a new birth
listen listen to my words
the season of spring is near
now a look into your lovely eyes
and one can see spring is already here.

——

An April Day
When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.
I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.
From the earth’s loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter’s cold,
The drooping tree revives.
The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
The forest openings.
When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green slope throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,
And wide the upland glows.
And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o’er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out and the moon dips her horn,
And twinkles many a star.
Inverted in the tide
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
And see themselves below.
Sweet April! many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life’s golden fruit is shed.

——

Spring
april breath
of? boyish red
the tongue crushes
strawberry dreams
hack away wound
and wound the fountain
and on the mouth
perspiration white
from someone’s neck
a little tooth
has bit the finger
of? the bride the
tabby yellow and sere
howls
the red boy
from the gable flies
an animal hearkens
in his white throat
his juice runs down
pigeon thighs
a pale sweet spike
still sticks
in woman white
lard
an april breath
of? boyish red

——

The New Time of Spring
Can you hear that? It must be spring.
A choir of birds, a song they sing.
Pitter, patter – a wet downpour.
Then a flash of light and thunder roars.
And see right there, by the old barn door,
A robin and worm playin’ tug-of-war.
Those silly little squirrels running here and there.
Did they lose their nuts? Now, that’d be a scare.
See the green sprouts, sprout-sprouting up –
Beginnings of colors and smells and such.
Open the windows – let the breeze in.
It’s that time of year, the new time of Spring.

——

Green Is Spring
Green is spring,
Bright, fresh, and new.
Yellow is the sun,
Bright, bold, and true.
Blue is the sky,
Shimmering and cool.
Purple is the king,
Quite royal in his rule.
Orange is fire,
Burning hot in the night.
Red is fall,
Bold, brilliant, and bright.
All these vivid colors combine,
So that in this world,
We never get bored.