Spring Things...

Spring fills the fields with buttercups and periwinkle stars

In budded copse and tall treetops, hope spills its faithful jars

As faith-filled onlookers, with humble thankfulness applaud

Where creek is full of chortle and the earth is full of God

Spring flings her truest, bluest hue across fine, middle day

It shooshes clouds upon its hills like little lambs at play

It tweaks the cheeks of tulips and rewards the poet’s pen

After winter has lost its will, with flowered things again

Spring wakes within the woman, whispers of her inner child

It giggles in the garden and drives the land-lover wild

It peeks from every crook and nook like a mischievous lad

And makes even the miser look up with a lilt of ‘glad’

Spring plays a harp of willow-wisp, and strings of greenest grass

And larkspur lavished meadow-lanes; its music is first-class

…and up and down the boulevard each yard is like a stage

Where puppy-dogs and children romp like pets let from a cage

Spring rings the bells of heaven; yellow, purple, coral, gold

And everyone bears witness as its miracles unfold

Where we are all receivers, from the greatest to the least

As nature’s kind Creator spreads earth with spring’s glory-feast

© Janet Martin