Spring has sprung the winter pris’ner
from winter’s frigid jail cell. Isn’er
green a sweet refreshing shift
from white on white on…you get the drift.
Spring springs forth in crocus cups
and people have more giddy up
to go and tidy up their lawn
(where, winter long, the dogs have gone)
Spring’s outpourings lie in puddles,
drowning worms, the vernal flood’ll
trickle creepsily into basements
Measuring stuff with displacement.
Spring is full of fits and starts
that gladden and sadden and gladden your heart.
you’re so confused that in the end
Even squelchy mud seems like a friend,
a harbinger of things to come
like hammock time and maybe some
perfect days when sun and breeze are
in perfect balance and the freezer’s
full of fudgicles and T-bone steaks
for barbeques beside the lake.
Yes Spring has sprung and all we hankered for.
We’ll enjoy and prob’ly never thank her for.