The blooming
the twittering
the looming
the jittering,

the buzzing
the zooming
the rising,
pop buds ,
and pop eyes-ing,

the growth that we love
and are loath
to adjust to
or bust to,

the wind billow,
bent willow,
and thick tall green grass

of the season
that jars us,

which we each
find the strength,
to endure,
though we feel
it strains us and mars us,

through the pollen
and dust
in whatever way
that we must,

reaching East, reaching West,
breaching hot climes
with their tropical slimes,
and also in places
with sky-dancing bright lights
where it’s freezing and Boreal,

as this season
since time immemorial,
known to our hearts
with their wish for fresh starts,
which because it is
wont to push up,
our long winter’s sleep
to disturb,
and thus interrupt,

about which we rejoice,
which we might as well do,
for, about its debut,
we have really no choice,

and attempt to join hands
in a far reaching ring,
in every place ’round the world
that now lives in the time
where the year gets unfurled,

because of its upward-bound bounce,
which it wields
each year
the still time of winter
to trounce,

we honor
and with sweet songs,
as we herald the Spring.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Seasons, Spring, Uncategorized, Winter and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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