I know this smell; spring grass
sweetness mashed with soft,
warmed air. Why am I surprised
at the variations of green; forest
green, pine green and acid green
appearing at each horizon?
Everywhere, green is bright and
easily shaken into ruffled motion.
Against a spring wind, a sparrow
voices a harmony to the
Woodpeckers' staccato
striving to make their own music.
In this yearly warming, I see
the brown eyes of
animals, the flash of birds and
the burst of color in flowers.
Don't call it spring fever. Call
it remembering what I forgot.
No comments:
Post a Comment