It's official! This is the first full day of spring! Actually it arrived yesterday when we weren't looking, just sort of sneaked in last evening. But these flowers were already blooming in my neighbors' gardens when I walked a few houses down the street from our house, camera in hand.
This following poem I pull from my files every spring, and I have posted it once - last April, I think. I was in that that rare joyous state when I wrote it several years ago.
SPRING ISHave a happy springtime in whatever manner you celebrate it!
Spring is not allegory. It is weighed
in density of sound from drunken bees,
intensity of sky, contrast of shade
and glinting leaf, the whisper brush of breeze
against my sleeveless skin; and it is seen
in swooping jay’s blue stitchery that sews
pure cherry blossom white to tender green.
Spring is the sun-baked boards beneath bare toes,
strawberries tart on tongue, the first warm night
that lilac scent, as thick as honey pours
through opened windows, moths around the light
and filmy dust of pollen on the floors.
Don’t try to find a meaning or define,
For spring is real