Spring
Today is the vernal equinox – equal night and day! So here’s my poem, Spring.
Spring
Gold on blueness,
Pinkless cool.
Surging newness
Of a thing.
It’s spring.
Birds sing.
Nearly April –
Green-tinged hue
Of grass and bud and dew.
Blossoms white fill
Stems anew
With a volume
They’d lost
With the frost.
And a frame
Grows full;
Becomes a wing
Again. Again. It’s spring.
© Annie Copland
Annie