When Earth Starts Dancing With First Fragrances of Spring...

 

This poem began the other day as I, like 'last year's pup' also sought the southside deck...

...delighting in first sightings of robins, and song-sparrow warbles and killdeer cries

Sometimes when earth starts dancing with first fragrances of spring

When robin song romances winter’s wearied weathering

It rouses frames filled with fond scenes of days, long left behind

With ways that will not change in spite of change’s ceaseless grind

It brings to mind pictures of school girls, hopscotch, skipping ropes

Of farmers whistling, with fresh bounce in steps of buoyed hopes

Of mothers cooking suppers for fresh-air keened appetites

Of pussy-willow ‘kittens’ and brook-song’s restored delights

Of puddles where paper boats sail, where little children ‘fish’

Of pebble-pennies lobbed, kerplunk, laden with Dreamer’s wish

And the wild rush of freedom as temperatures start to soar

And coats are tossed and cheeks are flushed with sun-kisses once more

Of last year's pup sprawled on south-facing deck for mid-day snooze

Of fantasies of feet freed from time-thieving socks and shoes 

Of picnic-baskets trundled to a perfect place to sit

On blankets spread a world away, as far as rules permit 

Of blue, blue rafters crowning girths, heady with birth, bud-rife

Of laughter, rising, falling on the carousel of life

Of scents, woodsy and pungent, kindling an impatient urge

For violet and forget-me-not and dandelion splurge

Or, countryside at sunset, swaddled in gold-embossed scrims 

Where silky dust-scarves waft from furrows stoked with planting hymns

Or the certain return of frantic, plaintive killdeer's cry 

Or whack! as baseball bats find sweet spots and outfielders fly  

Or muddy boots, where pastures were not wander-ready yet

Or bucket-garnished maple-trees snaring sap-pirouette

Or new-found loot, like sparkly stones, or shells where oceans roar

Or pop bottles to cash in for treats from the corner store

...and willow-wand's first feathered fronds before its sighing sheen

And prickly perches on creeks banks before stiff thatch turns green

Where ragged cattail-paupers wait for warmer streams to wade

But cheered by the shrill ripple of spring-peeper serenade 

I’m glad, when earth starts dancing with first fragrances of spring

I realize for all the changes life is bound to bring

The keepsakes that I treasure no modern progress can claim

Because children and nature are still very much the same

© Janet Martin

(a few tidbits from last year...because we're not quite there yet)