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Spring morningThe cats sniff the air and paw the screen door.
as we eye a place for the Bonsai outdoors. Long have we waited for the warm colors of crocus and forsythia. A quarter moon lists in a dawning sky, reflecting earth's phases to fullness. Robins chirp as they piggy-back from tree to tree Life is the game all know so well. Sparrows refurbish a nest in the pine dropping some cones to bring life of its kind. The maple is sprouting its tiny red leaves curving like claws that point as some trees. In the shade sits a rabbit while watching his mate eating the grass seeds I've planted of late. The yews are aglow with a fresh coat of green lighter by far than their dark undersheen. Creeping the ivy finds friends on the go. All in his path allow him to grow. Sleeping throughout a long wintry course, spring hails the triumph of beauty's own force. --Thomas D. Stanks, Songs on the Wind, The National Library of Poetry, 1995 |