Thursday, April 1, 2010

A Verse to Spring


Doldrums wane.
The draining grey swallowed by new tide.
The barren womb once more leaps.
Flakes of cold (that never were), have fled
Our thoughts with warm gaze.
The pale moans of the cello reform
To whispers of all growing things
Until it sings their lively melody.
Romance’s midday scene rests in
Shade of reaching arms from dazzling
Light and emboldening hue.
When nectar fills more than a belly.
At last. The long awaited restoration
Of color and birth is nigh.
One question endures although its worth is naught:
Is it the start of something anticipated,
Or is it the end, the something hoped for?